


TSSW Snippets and Drabbles

by Morgan_V



Category: The Soul Stone War - Morgan Vane
Genre: Anal, Angst, BDSM, Biting, Blindfolds, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Cock Rings, Degradation, Double Penetration, Dry-Humping, F/F, F/M, Face-Riding, Fighting, Fingering, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Grinding, Hand Feeding, Horror, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Mirror Sex, Mock Fighting, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Name Calling, Oral, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Painplay, Pet Play, Shibari, Slapping, Smut, Tentacle Vines, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, aphrodiciac, dream-death, leash, master and slave - Freeform, movement control, sfw, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 27,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25184449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_V/pseuds/Morgan_V
Summary: A compilation of all the tiny snippets and scenarios I have written on Tumblr and Discord. Figured I should keep them organized somewhere. The ratings are all over the place, so please check each chapter's heading and/or notes for warnings/ratings :)
Relationships: Daelynn/MC, Daelynn/MC/Eledwen, Eledwen/MC, Manerkol/MC, Morkai/MC, Morkai/MC/Daelynn, Morkai/MC/Manerkol, Morkai/MC/Straasa, Straasa/MC, The Stone/MC
Comments: 12
Kudos: 197





	1. Morkai/MC SFW Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> Morkai comforts the MC after they broke their arm. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

Morkai looks at the cast on your arm with exasperation, a sour look marring his features as he thins his lips and huffs. You can see the anxiousness playing behind his green eyes, the worry about you. He grabs one of your long tresses and lightly pulls at it in reprimand, the gesture familiar from when Straasa does it to him.

"You little pest... Why must you always worry me so?! I'm going white because of you!" You're sure he meant to sound accusing, but his borderline whining tone speaks of a fear he can't seem to shake. He pauses for a moment, then closes his eyes--he reaches out with a large hand and takes you by the nape, guiding you to rest your head against his chest.

The steady thumping of his heart soothes you and makes you feel safe, a heart that beats just for you, full with nothing but love. 

"Please get well soon..." he whispers against the crown of your head, his lips kissing your hair as he cradles you close. And you know that with a little bit of patience and a whole lot of cuddling... 

It will all be alright in the end.


	2. Daelynn/MC Borderline Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn and creative uses of fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn/MC Kind of Smut

She slowly drags the fruit tantalizingly over your naked skin, leaving behind a sticky trail that she all too quickly swipes away with her tongue. She starts by smearing the sweet syrup over your lips—she licks them clean. Then the path she follows leads lower—over your taut neck, your heaving chest, around your belly button. Her warm mouth makes sure to leave no clinging juice behind, suckling and pulling at your flesh with stinging intensity— then using her soft tongue to soothe.

Her soft hair trails over you, a golden blanket caressing you, teasing you, turning you mad with desire. Her hungry mouth has reached your thighs—you know it won’t be long now before she descends, she couldn’t possibly drag it out any fur..  
Her scorching hot breath hits your burning core as she hovers above it, using the fruit to create little trails of sweetness upon your sensitive skin. 

She looks up at you, her stormy eyes two pools of molten silver—then she licks her lips lewdly as she bends forward, her gaze ravenous, focused on nothing but the smeared sweetness she wants to suck away. 

The night has just begun.


	3. Daelynn/MC Kind of SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn giving the MC a massage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn/MC, starts as a massage, ends up with some implied oral

“Tell me where it hurts, my beauty,” Daelynn soft voice whispers in your ear. You jump a little in your seat from surprise. When had she gotten here?  
You are supposed to be keeping watch while the others sleep, and you didn’t ever hear your girlfriend open up the flap of her tent and walk up behind you? Some look-out you make. She chuckles against your ear, her breath making you shiver.  
“Don’t worry, I used magic to keep quiet,” she reassures you, immediately knowing what had you tensing up in dismay. You relax a bit at that. You’re supposed to be alert, but no one expects you to detect magic too.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminds you, draping herself over you, pushing her chest against your back. Well now. That’s certainly distracting.

“What question?” you ask, having already forgotten. She presses a small kiss against your neck, making it even harder to focus.

“Where does it hurt? You look very stiff and somber at the same time. A good combination for a guard maybe, but I prefer you all relaxed and pliable. Especially under me.”

Oh, man. This is how it’s going to go then. Her breath tickles your ear as she speaks, her voice growing lower the more she says. To top it all off, she finishes her sentence with a soft bite on the lobe of her ear. You jolt a bit away from her, scandalized and wanting at the same time.

“Daelynn! I’m supposed to be keeping watch!” you reprimand her half-heartedly.

“I’m not stopping you,” she replies easily, her hands beginning to wander around on your chest. You grip them in a frantic hold, stopping her exploration. You’ll cave if this goes on any further.

“Fine then,” she says, “I know what will calm you down.” She says this all gleefully, like the cat that got the canary. You open your mouth to tell her, no, but she beats you to it. 

With the swiftness of a snake, she has unwound herself from you and put her hands on your shoulders instead. Then she presses down. Hard. You fight to keep in the moan of relief that threatens to break out. Your shoulders have been drawn tight and causing you pain all day. And now her hands offer a blessed reprieve from the pain, gliding over your muscles like magic, exerting the right amount of pressure coupled with soothing, circular movements.

You feel yourself melt like butter, and you lean against the body behind you with a pleasured sigh. Her hands move from your shoulders to your neck and then lower. You are so close to purring, it’s embarrassing.

“That’s it, sing for me, my sweetheart,” she croons, and you wonder blissfully if you did purr after all. She starts laying kisses on the column of your neck as her hands drift lower on your body. You can feel the tension growing tighter and tighter, all your muscles drawn taut like a bow. She begins to moan in your ears, little soft sighs telling you she is enjoying this as much as you are.

Just when you think she will finally touch you where you need her to, she quickly withdraws her hands and pulls away from you.

“Daelynn,” you manage to gasp out, trying to illustrate your displeasure with that action. It comes out breathless instead.

She moves around from behind you until she is sitting in front of you, her gray eyes blazing in the light of the fire. The way she looks at you is almost feral. Like you are prey.

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” she challenges with her nose in the air, her tone imperial. Is she trying to make you beg?

“Please,” you give in and gladly so. Anything to make her start touching you again. Her lips curve in a sensual, self-satisfied smile.

“Good darling,” she praises you before slowly, intently leaning forward, her eyes holding you hostage. Her mouth takes over where her hands had left off, pressing kisses against the thin fabric of your clothes. Her lips hover over the place you need her the most, her hands reaching out to pull the cloth away from your flesh.

“Sing for me,” she orders you once more, her mouth finally making contact with your bare skin. You bring your hand to your mouth and bite, trying to keep the sounds in.

“Daelynn,” you can’t help but call out, her name on your lips a prayer. A prayer she is more than willing to answer.


	4. Daelynn/F!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn fingering a vagina-having MC, written from first person POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn/F!MC, this one is graphic smut with some light painplay, Daelynn is domming, vaginal fingering

I shiver as I shift uncomfortably on my knees, my hands tied behind my back, a trail of slick running down my thighs and pooling between my legs as I look up to her. My blond Goddess. My enchantress. The woman I love more than anything.

She is gazing down on me with ravenous hunger—the desire to dominate me, own me, is evident in her silver gaze. She licks her lips, and I moan helplessly—conquered, submissive, hers. Another gush of wetness escapes between my legs, and she watches it trail down, enraptured.

She slowly bends forward, her full breasts filling my vision, her golden mane a silken caress on my shoulders, her scent drugging me as she grabs hold of my short hair and pulls, exposing my throat to her bloodthirsty attention. The pain travels down my spine and electrifies every single nerve, making me whimper openly, strain against my bonds with the desire to touch her, to...

"Stay still," she orders cuttingly, her tone demanding. I immediately quiet down, swallowing thickly to calm myself. I never want to disappoint her—I will do whatever she wants. My soul is hers. As soon as I still my movements, she chuckles, and her mouth heads straight for my neck.

I try to do as she commanded me while she nips and sucks at it—but it's so hard. Then her free hand trails down my heavy breasts, pinching the nipple cruelly, making me cry out in agonized ecstasy, I'm so sensitive—! Her hand moves down with the speed of a predator, burrowing between my leaking thighs and lunging her fingers inside me all the way to the root, pushing against the opening to my womb, stretching, claiming, so much pleasure, so much pain...!

I scream as she bites down on my neck hard enough to bruise—and the world explodes in colors.


	5. Daelynn/MC/Eledwen Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn dragging Eledwen and the MC on a nightly adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DE poly, meaning Daelynn, Eledwen, and the MC—fluff

“Daelynn… Is it much further..?” you groan in discomfort. Your feet are killing you. You have been walking up and down all day long, much to your steed’s pleasure, but your own body has decided it doesn’t like you very much right now.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, treasure! I promise it’s worth the trek,” she says as she turns around to look at you, the smile she gives you reaching up to her grey eyes. Her blond hair brushes against your linked hands from where she is pulling you forward. To make sure you don’t get lost, she said. As if she needs an excuse to touch you. Her eyes quickly turn forward, back to the invisible path through the trees only she can see. You hear a soft chuckle coming from behind you.

“Even you, Ely?” you accuse the woman walking behind you. You turn around to look at her and find her with her gaze already set on you. Her face looks soft in the evening light, the way she looks at you honey-sweet. Her slitted, golden eyes glow faintly as she takes in the sight of you, a soft smile gracing her usually thinned lips. She looks happy, and that makes you happy in return.

“You know it’s useless to resist her when she gets like this,” she answers you fondly.

“Why would you even want to resist? Don’t I always make it worth your while? To both of you?” the smug elf pitches in, giving the two of you a sultry look over her shoulder. Eledwen laughs, and you try to pout, still grumpy over your aching limbs.

“My feet hurt,” you complain in a pathetic voice. You look at Eledwen beseechingly, trying to convey to her the magnitude of your suffering by your eyes alone. She smiles at you indulgingly and takes a step closer. Her hard body brushes against yours, and she holds out her arm, indicating she’d like to hold you. You snuggle up to her without hesitation, burying your face in the crook of her neck. 

You take in a deep breath of her intoxicating scent. It reminds you of fast-moving clouds and deep, silent water. Does either of these things have a scent? You don’t know. And right now, you don’t particularly care either. The hand she held out wraps around your waist, and she lifts, making you rest your weight against her, almost pulling your feet off the ground. She makes it look so effortless too.

“Oh my. You know what it does to me when you get so handsy like that,” you hear Daelynn purr, her hand squeezing you tighter. She has stopped walking, and you can imagine what her faces looks like right now. But you’re not about to move your head from its comfortable resting place to check, no sir.

“Get us where we’re supposed to be going, and I’ll get handsy with you too,” Eledwen promises to your blond-haired temptress, and it’s like the air between the three of you becomes laden with electricity. Without another word, Daelynn rushes forward, leading your trio to your final destination. You finally reach a clearing, and beyond it sits a tranquil lake, it’s quiet surface bathed in the beautiful colors of the setting sun.

You disengage from Eledwen’s body, but grab her hand instead and pull both of your women with you, stopping close to the edge of the war.

“Daelynn… It’s beautiful,” you tell her, turning your head to look at her. Her eyes pierce you like she is looking right into your soul. She pulls her hand away from yours and brings it up to cup your face instead. She leans a bit forward, resting your foreheads against each other. You can feel her sweet breath brush against your face. Sweet, always sweet. All of her.

A strong, solid body hugs you from behind, long arms wrapping around you and Daelynn both. Eledwen presses her face against your neck.

“Yes,” Daelynn says, looking at nothing but you.

“It is,” Eledwen finishes, her lips pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Yes, you both are,” you think as you close your eyes, happiness overwhelming you, and you know that both of them can see into your heart without you having to utter a word.


	6. Daelynn/MC/Eledwen NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn domming her two lovers in an all-out smut scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn/MC/Eledwen full-blown smut, oral, fingering, Dae in charge

“Well, my lovelies… What am I going to do with you now that I have both of you so prettily spread out for me?”

Her dark tone makes you shiver. Eledwen is laid out on the inn’s bed, her hands held in your own grasp, pushed up above her head, and touching the headboard. You are on your knees above her, both of you naked and trembling as Daelynn inspects the picture the two of you make, following her instructions, putting yourselves on display for her hungry gaze.

A soft hand runs the length of your back, from tailbone to the back of your neck, stroking and calming you as if you were a cat. A good thing too, because you are feeling skittish as hell, she has kept both you and Ely on edge for too long. You look at the beautiful body beneath you, trembling with the force of her arousal, her otherworldly eyes unfocused and glassy, her lips moist.

You let yourself really look, appreciate the beautiful painting of submission she makes. From her pert breasts to her taut stomach, all the way to her glistening folds she is perfect. And she is all yours. Yours and Daelynn’s.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” a sultry voice whispers in your ear, her blond temptress draping her body over your own, her hands going around you, stroking and squeezing your torso. Her hands find your nipples and pinch and pull, ever so lightly.

“Daelynn…” you manage to whine, your whole body trembling. This is too much, you are going mad waiting.

“Be a good darling, now. Look at Ely, she’s not complaining, is she?” she taunts you, grinding against your buttocks, her fingers still tormenting you. Eledwen is looking at the two of you with a dazed look, her chest rising and falling quickly with her panting. She never complains.

“I think we should reward her, shouldn’t we?” the devil at your ears whispers. Both you and Eledwen moan in agreement. Daelynn reaches for one of your hands, removing it from Eledwen’s skin. She takes hold of it and slowly and purposefully guides it down your draconic lover’s body. Her hot flesh quivers under your touch until your elven mistress finally has your fingers where she wants them. 

In one fluid motion, she guides them into Eledwen’s body, warmth and slickness and tightness surrounding them. You moan at the feeling, almost as loudly as your dragon love.

“Start moving them the way she likes it. Don’t stop until I tell you,” Daelynn instructs, her tone husky. You can nothing but obey. Your elf resumes stroking you from the outside, just as you are stroking Eledwen from the inside.

“Don’t move your hands,” she demands when Eledwen forgets herself in her passion. She quickly corrects her position, her arms locking back into their original place. Her wide eyes look at you pleadingly, and you smile at her, picking up your pace and leaning down to kiss her.

As soon as your lips touch hers, Daelynn pulls back from you. You are stunned for a moment, the loss of contact leaving you forlorn. She does not leave you wanting for long. In one smooth movement, she buries her head from behind between your widely spread legs.

You gasp and lean a bit away, the sudden overstimulation of her mouth suckling harsh against your flesh too much. She grabs you around the hips, and pins you down, forbidding you to move. Makes you take it. You keep your hips where they are, helpless under her onslaught, trying to keep up the pace you have on Eledwen. It’s becoming very difficult to focus on it. Luckily, it seems like your winged partner is very close.

You lean toward her, and rest your forehead against her, sharing your breaths with each other. Her resolve finally breaks, her hands breaking away and moving to hug your body, pressing you close against her. Her muffled whimpering is swallowed by your mouth, her eyes close in bliss, and her flesh clenches so tight around your fingers you have trouble moving them.

Her erratic movements against you, her smell, coupled with Daelynn’s demanding mouth are what do it for you too. Your muscles lock up as you shake and tremble through your peak, your body longer no longer strong enough to support your weight.  
You collapse against Eledwen, and she holds you easily, not bothered by your dead weight on top of her. Daelynn keeps her mouth against for a few more torturous moments, then she withdraws. 

You don’t have the strength to turn around and look at her. Eledwen is stroking your head tenderly, pressing kisses against your face.

“Mmm,” Daelynn purrs contentedly, undoubtedly pleased with herself. “Now… how should I punish my two dolls? You did disobey me after all…” 

Her earlier words flash through your mind. Don’t move. Don’t stop. Uh oh. Both you and Eledwen had misbehaved. That meant a long night was ahead of you. And as you feel Ely tremble beneath you at the threat and Daelynn drape herself over you once more, you realize— you wouldn’t have it any other way.


	7. AU Dom Eledwen/MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Elly is dom, and she teaches a dicc-having MC who their Mistress is XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eledwen/M!MC NSFW, dominant Elly, pain/pleasure, bloodplay, vaginal sex

The golden eyes staring you down are inhuman, feral—they are shining with a thirst that cannot be quenched. A thirst for you. From the arch of her neck to the scales running down her muscular arms to her heaving breasts, she is a thing of beauty. And the power she exerts over you cannot be denied. She is sitting on top of you, your length buried deep inside her, her hand at your throat. She is fully transformed. Claws, fangs, her muscles bulging—you are hidden under the cocoon her wings make.

A trail of blood runs down your throat from where her claws are pricking your skin, uncaring, careless—wanting to hurt you, make you shudder as the pain mixes with ecstasy, your body marked as hers in every way possible. Your thighs are slick from the wetness pooling in her core, and the harder she rides you, the dizzier you get, the more you gasp for breath.

She leans predatorily over your face, feeding you one of her nipples as she grabs you by the hair and forces you to twist uncomfortably to reach it. Her sculpted body ripples as she harshly heaves on top of you, a vicious, mesmerizing dance that ends with you gasping in pained pleasure every time she slams her hips down on you, sheathing your member all the way inside her.

Her low moans fill your ears while she uses you as nothing but a toy, a prized possession existing for nothing but fulfilling her needs. You can feel your pelvis tighten, your shaft throbbing, but you can’t finish yet, she hasn’t allowed you, she—it is no use. Despite knowing that punishment awaits you if you orgasm before she is done, the rapture flowing through your veins is too much to ignore, the pain of her claws scratching your throat, the tight, silky grip of her clutching walls, the breathlessness when her squeezes your neck…

It’s just too much. So when she growls possessively as she watches a trail of blood pool in the hollow of your neck, when she laps it up greedily, when she sinks her teeth in your defenseless flesh to get more… When the agony lances through your veins like a lightning strike, searing your nerves, shooting all the way down your spine, and gathering between your legs—you scream. 

You scream and let go. Her name is a desperate, suffering cry on your lips, the bliss blooming through you as sharp as a blade, slicing you open and exposing you to her ravenous gaze. Her eyes pin you down as she rears back and bears down, putting all her weight on your uncontrollably thrusting hips, a sinister, red grin curving her lips, your blood pooling at the edges of her mouth.

On and on your orgasm goes until you feel hollowed out, on fire, your body having nothing left to give but still straining to fill her up, claim her, breed her. You are so deeply embedded in her that your member reaches all the way to the entrance of her womb, pushing, pushing, deeper…

Her walls clench around you with intensity strong enough to steal away all thought, the woman on your dreams throwing her head back and moaning wildly as she climaxes on your still-twitching length, the pressure, and slickness enough to drive you mad. Her muscular thighs are keeping you pinned in place, her hands on your shoulders pushing you down as she spasms on top of you, her eyes delirious with possessive ecstasy.

Her orgasm prolongs your own to the point where all pleasure fades, and only pain is left, your straining body pushed beyond its limits. And then it’s finally over. You slump down on the bed, boneless, breathless, your heart hammering in your chest. Muscles you didn’t know you had started to unclench slowly, your toes straightening, your throat sore, your body throbbing. She is now draped over you, breathing heavily, letting you feel her weight.

When she pulls back, her slitted eyes are shining, and her scales glimmer with a fierce inner light. She looks otherwordly, wild, hungry. She grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides with deliberate slowness, her feral gaze never leaving you. The time of your punishment is upon you, and judging by the twister, gleeful smirk she’s wearing, you can tell that she does not plan to go easy on you. She chuckles and licks her lips, the dark sound traveling through your spent flesh, putting you on edge.

You are helpless, immobile beneath her, still buried inside her—and when her tongue licks away the hopeless tears you didn’t realize you had shed, it becomes clear to you… This woman is a Goddess. Your Goddes—and you have disobeyed her. The time of dragons is once more upon the world, and this one has claimed you as her own. Her love.Her creature. Her willing pet.

And she will have you.


	8. Manerkol/MC SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol greeting when you enter a room (made as a welcome message on his Discord channel XD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol/MC SFW, biting

Sharp red eyes track your every move as you cross the room, your body and mind a mess of tittering anticipation as the force of his full attention rushes over you like a jolt of electricity over your nerves.

He is sitting elegantly in a large armchair, his long legs spread out in front of him, a book held in his hands. The light of the fireplace he keeps lit for you casts his pale face in long shadows, fiery highlights dancing on his ebony hair. Hair that you can't wait to run your fingers through.

He puts the book away as you draw nearer, his gaze swiping over every single inch of your face and body, not bothering to hide the ravenous hunger hiding behind the red depths. He notices how your quicken your step to get to him, how you all but skip to leap into his arms.

He holds them out for you the moment you are in range, long fingers wrapping around your waist and pulling you to him, your body getting pushed flush to his as you straddle his lap, his legs on either side of his firm thighs. A cold hand grabs you by the back of your neck, the other locking you in place against him.

His full lips curve in a self-satisfied smirk as you shiver in delight, his long fangs flashing in the light of the fire, a dark chuckle wrapping around you like ropes made of velvet, terrifying but turning you delirious, the vibration running down your spine. 

"Impatient for something, ulaidh?" he asks huskily against your skin, his deep voice a heated, teasing murmur. He runs his lips over the shuddering column of your neck, and your body catches on fire as you press that much closer to him, using your thighs to hold him in place, trying to make sure he won't try to escape.

As if you can contain him. As is he would ever pull away. The arm around your waist shifts as he starts to run his strong fingers over your back, applying pressure, massaging you, making you melt against him with a euphoric whimper, lolling your head to the side to allow him unfettered access to your neck.

And as the nip of his fangs gets pricklier and pricklier, his mouth pulling at your tender flesh, sucking, getting you ready for his bite, you realize… This is one gorgeous prison you find yourself in. His sharp teeth break your skin, and you gasp out loud, your body tightening at the not-so-unexpected invasion.

He sucks the very essence of you into himself, ravenous, insatiable, holding you immobile, his need almost terrifying in its intensity. His need for you. And as you slump against him, you think…

This is the one prison that you never want to leave.


	9. Manerkol/F!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol intimately tending to his MC ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol with a vagina-having MC, fingering, biting, SMUT

You lie stretched out on your back, your pounding heart only now starting to calm down, your thighs sticky with your own wetness, your body a satisfied mess of limbs. Your passage is still throbbing from the passionate pounding it received only moments ago, and small shivers wrack your form as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you.

You are limp, entirely satisfied, your unseeing eyes focusing on nothing. A sultry chuckle rings around you, low and intimate, and the cool body resting next to you shifts. He gets up on one elbow and uses his free hand to play with your hair, running his long fingers through the strands as his own ebony locks cascade down his ivory chest, his red eyes shining with possessive satisfaction.

His nails scratch at the sensitive skin of your scalp, brushing against your ears, trailing down your sweat-covered neck. He plays with your collarbones, pressing his thumbs against them and mapping the cherished landscape that is your form. 

"Had enough, ulaidh?" he rumbles above you, his full lips curving in a sinful smirk as the mere timbre of his deep voice shoots sensation down your veins. Your reaction is not lost on him, his hawk-like attention focused fully on you, on every single breath, every single twitch. He leans over you predatorily, his larger form pressing you down as he free hand firmly grabs your trembling thigh.

You couldn't hold in the lustful moan even if your life depended on it. All it takes is a single word, a single look for the desire to be reignited, as intense and urgent as if it had never been slacked in the first place. His red gaze draws you in, drowning you in its depths as your heart hammers in your chest, so full of love for him that it feels like it's about to burst. He licks his lips, and you stare, mesmerized.

And as he leans forward, his fangs peeking through, his voice a growl enveloping you, you spread your thighs open wide for him, longing, yearning. His fangs pierce your tender skin the moment his fingers enter you, going deep, all the way in. And as absolute euphoria rushes through you, washing away all though and reason, you can't help but cry out...

"Manerkol!"


	10. M!Stone/F!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where the MC can have a twisted romance with their Soul Stone—here we have a F!MC sexing it up with Male!Agate in a messed up, horror scene. Dream-death fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M!Agate/F!MC, painplay, bloodplay, dream-death fic, aphrodisiac, tentacle vines, NSFW, horror. Also, two dicks—this is pretty messed up, you have been warned.

You are sitting in front of a large mirror, your long red hair the only thing covering your pebbled skin. And you are staring back at yourself—except not. Your eyes stare at the man sitting behind you, holding you crushingly tight as his slitted, green eyes drink in the sight of you.

Your legs are splayed open and bound, your folds glistening, sore, and puffed up as he pumps his longs fingers inside you, four of them, going all the way to your cervix. His hair is as red as yours, his eyes as green, his face a mirror of your own, but sharper, squarer, manlier. Crueler.

His red scales glimmer in the low light as another vine wraps around your heaving breasts, the thorns digging into your nipples and twisting, sending shards of razor-sharp pain through your system. Another gush of slickness escapes your pulsing core as you wail, bathing his hand in your essence.

Your eyes flutter closed as you pant—and a clawed hand takes you by the throat, the sharp fingertips digging in, drawing blood and bruising your skin as trails of red paint your heaving chest. You gasp for breath, instinctively trying to raise your hands to your throat, but they are bound too, the slithering vines digging their thorns into your flesh and covering you in a thick, nectar-like substance that makes you shiver and moan as it seeps into your skin.

You tried to fight. You really did. But there is no escaping him. Agate, your ruin, and your salvation. Your master. The creature that owns you. He chuckles deeply as he watches you struggle, his twins erections a scorching brand as he grinds them against your backside, slicking up your tense hole and lightly pushing against the rim.

You want to curse at him, fight—but no words leave your aching mouth, your lips stretched obscenely wide as two sleek vines pump in and out of your throat, feeding you their drugging liquid, making your flesh bulge while he strokes his talons over your abused neck, cooing at you soothingly.

“That’s it, Marilla, let go—let it all go. There is no point in struggling, I’ve already won.”

You whimper around the obstruction in your mouth, drool running down your chin to mix with your blood as your eyes start to glaze over, the vines around your nipples pulling, scraping, making your body scream in agonized rapture. He loves seeing you writhe and suffer—just as much as he loves forcing you to come apart for him.

Your abused walls cling to his ruthless fingers as he pounds them inside you, hitting your every sensitive spot, ramming them against your cervix so hard that you fear you’ll break. And yet you can’t stop coming. The creamy evidence of your multiple orgasms coat his hand and even drip down to the floor as you clench and gush around him, needing, needing, you’re so close..!

He pulls the digits out—and you thrash in his wicked embrace, causing the thorny appendages that are wrapped around your body to tighten and the slithering vines in your throat to reach so far down you think they’ll pierce your stomach. Your eyes start to roll in their sockets, you’re going to die, you can’t breathe, it hurts, it hurts, Agate…!

You are abruptly lifted up by the throat, a wet-sounding gurgle leaving your lips as you struggle to breathe through the all-consuming green tentacles gagging you and his steely grip—your heart is going to burst out of your chest, the heart that belongs to him, his, his, he can have it, he can have it all..!

Then you are forcefully shoved down, straight onto his drooling shafts. The pain of penetration sears you to the bone—your pulsating core has had some preparation, but the same cannot be said for the opening between your cheeks. The lengths are generously covered in the nectar that is fed down to you—but instead of soothing, it burns, it burns with the heat of a thousand suns, and… They. Just. Won’t. Stop. Piercing. You. They reach all the way inside in one merciless, dragging push, straining your body to its limit with their sheer thickness.

The tip of the first shaft smashes against the spongy opening to your womb, causing a soul-deep pain to eviscerate your body, your consciousness coming undone as the second length buries itself in your unprepared insides, your guts twisting and heaving to cast him out, take him deeper, make him fill you…!

“Now, Marilla, now— break for me!”

Your body tightens to the point of no return as your eyes roll back and your muscles lock, wave after punishing wave of overwhelming sensation filling you with the most agonizing ecstasy you have ever felt. Blood and cum run down his pummeling members, your body brokem, your mind shredded as your very life’s essence pours out of you with each pulsating throb of your climaxing form.

You’d scream—if only you could. And the mirror breaks as his bestial fangs maul your neck, blood and gore covering his face, his talons piercing your neck clean through, the thorny vines ripping off your nipples while blood runs freely down your opening, still getting pounded, still cumming as your life leaves you.

You wake up with a terrified scream lodged tight in your throat, your core throbbing and drenching your underwear as you clamp your thighs together, ecstasy still wracking your shivering form, the vivid images of your own death playing before your eyes over and over.

Then a tender, deep voice echoes through your uncomprehending mind, a tender caress laid upon your breaking soul with all the care in the world. You can taste your own blood in the back of your throat, red and metallic, red like him, like you, like you both. A spectral kiss is pressed to your forehead.

“I love you, Marilla...” your cruel lover whispers adoringly—and you break down in tears, still shuddering from the aftershocks of your violent orgasm. He has already won. It’s over.

“I love you, too, Agate…”


	11. Morkai/F!MC/Daelynn AU NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Morkai and Daelynn fall to darkness, and they now rule your country in Manerkol's place, with you as their beloved Consort. Their beautiful, caged bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/F!MC/Daelynn poly, nsfw, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial

“There is no point in that, my love. Why do you keep trying? It’s over.”

His voice cuts through the murkiness of your thoughts, as beloved as it is hurtful, the deep, smooth sound that once made you feel safe… now a chain around your heart. One out of two.

You swallow thickly and lower your hands, slowly unclenching them from the fists they had turned into. Fists desperately pounding against the cold, magical barrier surrounding your beautiful prison, Straasa and Eledwen’s names ripped out of your torn throat, your heart a desolate field.

A field they own. A field they’ll hold onto no matter what it costs—the lives lost, the friends hurt—none of these things matter to the beautiful monsters that have claimed your mind and soul.

The monsters that you can’t help but love even now, a love so consuming that it eclipses all logic, all reason. All hope. It hurts to love them. It tears your heart asunder and breaks into hair-thin threads whatever is left of your wailing soul.

Agate is quiet and has been for a long time. Her threat is long gone, as is Manerkol’s. But the price you had to pay for that was beyond the count of grief. Because where Agate failed, her brothers and sisters won.

A large arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you back into Morkai’s chest, solid, unyielding, his warmth and scent making your mouth water and your body shiver even after everything that’s happened.

It’s like your body and heart have been conditioned to seek him out, to long for his touch, his flesh inside of you, his mind battering down your meager defenses as he claims everything for himself. Himself… and Daelynn.

Your golden mistress left your shared rooms early this morning, her empire calling her to leave your side—but it is never for long. And Morkai remained this time. To look after you. To make sure you can never leave. To remind you again and again that your leash only stretches so far, and if you don’t behave, whatever privileges you have will be revoked.

He just watched quietly as you threw yourself against that door again and again, the last dregs of your resistance breaking, your sense of self dissolving as despair finally fully set in.

You can’t stand to fight against them anymore. They are not who they used to be—but they are all you have left, and to be apart is more than you can bear. They are… an addiction you can never hope to overcome. Or even wish to.

Their poison-laced love has seeped its way into your every crook and cranny, their cruelty tempered with affection, an endless stream of it that leaves you gasping and aching for more—if only you behave.

You realize on some level… that they have trained you to be this way. Aware of your own diminishment, but unable to do anything but crave for more of them. Beg for it. For them. Your lovers, your soulmates, your masters. Your owners. The tendrils of twisted love linking you all together are inescapable.

And so you finally realize—you cannot escape. You don’t even want to anymore. All you want is to be lost in their feverish caresses, to lose yourself in their arms, their lips branding you as theirs with every single painful kiss.

You sag against your green-eyed God, and he cradles you close, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he swiftly grabs you underneath the knees and lifts you up. He squeezes you to his chest as he starts moving toward the massive bed, and you burrow your face in his red tresses, shivering at the realization that… this is it. You’ve given in. It’s over.

“… Why?” you ask tremulously, the half-swallowed sob clogging your throat and painting your voice in quivery colors. A moment passes in silence—then his dulcet tones ring out in your golden cage, and you press your ear against his throat, letting the vibrations soak into you.

“Because you’re mine. Because I love you.” There once was a time when he had trouble saying these words to you. Now they flow as easily as breath, the truth, yes— but also a way to manipulate you at the same time. You still can’t help but covet them every time you hear them.

“And because… we are all you’ll ever need.” This declaration doesn’t come from Morkai’s lips. He stops moving and nuzzles your hair for a moment, a smirk pulling at his lips as he recognizes who else is in the room with you now.

The sweet, feminine voice comes from behind you—you swallow thickly as you lift your head to stare at your golden-haired queen. The faint smell of ozone follows in her footsteps, her magic the only way in and out of this beautiful prison.

She walks up to you and Morkai, gently taking hold of his bicep as he leans down to kiss her with a low moan, her other hand coming up to cup your jaw, her fingers tenderly and possessively running along your sensitive skin.

Her dominating, greedy nature gets worse with every day that passes—her yearning for you and Morkai gets stronger by the minute, covetous, delirious, demanding you both give her all that you are and more.

You had thought Morkai would help you curb her all-consuming tendencies—he does not. If nothing else, he encourages them, urging her to crave him more, thirst for him, for you both, taking, claiming, hoarding until you all burn in the fires of your collective madness.

Their kiss ends as Daelynn pulls away, a small proprietary bite placed against your redhead’s lips before she turns her attention to you. Her silver gaze runs over you, taking in every detail, cruel, loving, unyielding.

She zeroes in on your banged-up hands, the evidence of your disobedience clear as day. She sighs forlornly as her eyes go soft and sad, her disappointment slicing you open, a razor down your veins, making your blood feel like liquid ice.

“Again, beloved? How many times must we go through this? Why do you insist on hurting us like this? Does it bring you joy? Breaking our hearts?”

You know what she’s doing. Manipulating you, guilting you, trying to make it seem like your need for freedom means you don’t love her and Morkai. You know what she’s doing—and yet you can’t help the pang of pain ripping your chest open, the desperate need to defend yourself, to tell her you love them above all else, it doesn’t have to do with… It doesn’t need to…

“It’s not her fault, Daelynn. Our precious one always puts others above herself. She’s doing this for their sake. She doesn’t realize that her actions are tearing us apart. She doesn’t realize that trying to run away from us is creating a rift in our bond that may never be mended.”

Morkai delivers these words fatter-of-factly, his voice neutral, the apathetic attitude of an executioner, delivering his fatal blow without consideration of what he tears asunder—but then his lips brush over your forehead, your eyelids, trailing all the way to your ear. He nips the lobe lightly and whispers to you as you shiver in terrified yearning.

“Because if she realized… she’d never do these things. She would never hurt us willingly. She loves us. Just as much as we love her. We’re meant for each other.” Daelynn coos as the fateful words leave his lips, pressing close to you and caging you against your warrior’s body, her soft hand beginning to trail over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

Her eyes are twins pools of molten silver as they drink in your sight, her touch electrifying your skin as her breath fans over you, coming out quicker and hotter the longer she stares at you, strokes you with deadly intent.

“Yes, she’d never do it knowingly. Our treasure, our mate, the final piece of our souls. She just didn’t realize—but now she does.” Her hand cups your mount for a single second then moves to burrow between your clenched thighs, Morkai shuffling you a bit in his arms to make it easier for Daelynn to get where she wants.

“Now she does,” he repeats after the elf, his deep voice swimming with proprietorial possessiveness, with unapologetic triumph before his lips steal the breath from your lungs, lick away your tears, claim all that you are. 

He knows he has won. They both do. He thrusts his tongue deep inside your mouth, going as far back as he can while Daelynn plunges her fingers into your warm depths, the abruptness of the penetration causing a stab of pain to pool at your core.

Then sticky wetness floods over her hand as your body responds to her, to them, in the most wanton way possible, craving the pleasure, craving the pain, needing anything that they will give.

Morkai sucks at you until your head goes light with lack of air, your lungs burning, burning, just as hotly as your passage does, your mistress’ fingers stretching and ramming into you without mercy, her lips pulling at your nipples over your nightgown.

You squirm and moan, try to pull away yet get closer—to no avail. Morkai’s arms are two brands of steel around you, forcing you to sit still and just take it. You have no control over what is happening, you have no control over your life—you don’t even have control over your own heart and body.

Higher and higher the rapture pushes you, the fingers between your legs pummeling you walls with equal parts ecstasy and agony, the mouth at your nipples sucking and biting, the tongue fucking your throat not giving you a moment’s reprieve.

Your muscles locking, your feet and back arching, you shudder as you’re about to fall over the precipice, a well of euphoria pooling betweens your legs and streaming outwards, outwards, just one more pump..!

The fingers withdraw, leaving you clenching on nothing, your body striving to climax—the mouths suckling at you pull back as well, Morkai’s beard no longer scratching at the soft skin of your face, Daelynn’s talented tongue no longer playing with your puffed up nipples.

You cry out in dismay as almost all sources of stimulation are taken from you, leaving you empty and wanting, shuddering in desire and the frustration of a ruined orgasm, helpless to do anything but watch as Daelynn brings her drenched fingers to Morkai’s lips.

He immediately takes them in, his mouth making lewd slurping sounds as he moans deep in his chest, and soon Daelynn is kissing him, the two of them sharing your taste ravenously like they can’t get enough of it or each other.

This spectacle only serves to torture you even more, and you whimper in wanton distress—but despite the twin hot gazes glancing your way for a moment, your lovers don’t heed your call as they keep their attention on each other.

Because, in the end, you’re not the one with the power here. You lost your chance to be their equal when you tried to run away. Now all you can do is accept what is given, relish in the affection that is afforded you. Be a good girl.

And maybe one day, your sins will be forgiven and your transgressions forgotten. But until that day is upon you and you are redeemed—here you will remain. A trapped bird, a pet coveted beyond all else, pampered and worshipped.

But with no voice of your own, no choices to be taken—a gorgeous jewel, theirs to play with and flaunt, theirs to pleasure. A possession. One that they will do anything to keep by their sides.

And as they break their hungry kiss, their burning gazes turning to you with all the greed in the world boiling behind them, you realize… It is over. You have lost. And here you will remain.


	12. Manerkol/F!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol and a F!MC; the moment he realizes you need him as much as he needs you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol/F!MC. Emotional angst, ending in desperate sex. NSFW, biting.

You are sitting on his lap quietly, enjoying his solid body against yours and running your fingers lethargically through his ebony tresses. His hand is at your nape, gentle, unmoveable, never allowing you to forget that you belong to him. And he belongs to you.  
He is leafing through a book with one hand, but you know he’s not really paying attention to it, his focus is on something else—something intangible that only he sees, the plans he’s been concocting for millennia finally bearing fruit.

Millennia. It still boggles your mind sometimes—how old he is, how old you’ll grow together. And yet despite knowing that the two of you have forever, it still feels like you can’t get enough of him no matter how many times a day you have him, no matter that you spend every waking moment at this side, his touch always on you.

You have a thirst for him that can never be quenched, an infinite desire, an all-encompassing love that hurts with its intensity—yet one you can’t imagine living without. Without him—your lover, your soulmate, your eternity.

The faint sound of book pages turning abruptly stops, and silence falls. You don’t immediately take notice, your thoughts unfocused and lax, content. But you soon realize that the body you’re lying on is unnaturally still—even more so than usual. He is sitting utterly still like a statue, and you suddenly feel his gaze piercing the top of your head from where you have it resting against his chest.

His cold fingers tangle in your long hair, and he makes you look at him—his full attention is now on you, and although he’s suddenly guarding his thoughts and emotions well, you are getting traces of them through the bond. Disbelief and… what is that?  
His blank expression gives away nothing, but his eyes tell a tale, intense emotions swirling in their depths—but they move so fast, there and gone again before you have a chance to decipher them. He’s not saying anything either, his silent scrutiny almost unnerving you.

You try to think what it was that might have upset him in any way. You didn’t say anything out loud, of course, but that doesn’t make any difference. He’s always there, inside your head, inside your heart, owning your very soul.

You wrack your brain to figure out what it was, feeling his cutting gaze on you the whole time, his presence in your mind as he lets you search without aiding or hindering you. He just watches.

And then you find it. Two words with the weight of the world behind them. Two words that penetrate through all else and prove once and for all your unequivocal desire to be with him—always. My eternity.

The moment you think them again, the grasp on your hair tightens, his red eyes boring into you, flaying you, laying your soul bare, looking for any kind of deceit—almost desperately so. You allow it.

You make yourself relax in his arms, bearing the insistent prodding of his own soul against yours, his razor-sharp mind stripping yours of all defenses to get to the purest part of you, the part that can never lie.

The sensation is not comfortable—it never is when he does this. But you know he needs to see for himself, the ferocity of his actions underling his near desperation. Perhaps you should have been fighting agaisnt his unprompted invasion—but you have never wanted to do that.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be with him, bound to each other for all time—escaping him is not even a thought that exists for you. You need to be so inextricably woven with him that you can never be pulled apart. 

So you give it all—you let him touch the deepest part of you and see for himself the absolute devotion—devotion for him and your shared life. You make your soul bloom like a flower for him, tendrils of light and near-painful love reaching out and enveloping him safely as he rages and seeks for reassurance.

And he soon finds it. You’re are holding back nothing—hiding from your own feelings is not who you are. For a moment, all is still around and within. He has stopped pushing because he is there. And he marvels at the answers he finds, his soul quiet and calm and content for a single moment in time. 

A small sound leaves his throat, almost wounded, and you open eyes you hadn’t realized had drifted closed, your arms wound around his shoulders as you clutch him to you fiercely, wanting to take his pain away, his protector as much as he is yours.

You meet his red gaze and smile at what you see—gone is the absolute arrogance he shows to all but you, the mask he puts up for the world. All the shields are stripped away, layer after layer of old pain peeled, leaving behind just… him. Your soulmate, vulnerable and too afraid to hope but clinging to it nonetheless. For just this once, you see—the fear and pain he keeps locked away from everyone, including himself.

“You mean it,” he rasps, his smooth, deep voice not betraying the inner turmoil that rages clearly in his gaze. You swallow thickly and trail one hand from where it’s clutching his hair to softly cup his cheek.

“Manerkol… My eternity. Always.”

The oath leaves your lips without a hint of doubt, sealing your fate and his better than any Soul Stone ever could. For better or for worse, neither of you will ever let go, now or ever. If this is a prison, it’s one you have chosen for yourself willingly. You will never forsake it. And neither will he.

The stillness of the moment is broken in a flurry of hungry mouths and hands, your bodies straining to become one as you lunge at each other in perfect harmony, his lips stealing away your breath as your fingers fumble to free him from the constraints of his breaches.

When he at last—at last— slips within you, you are already wet and aching for you, your passion ignited in seconds, the need to be one riding you hard, all the way to your bone and marrow, your soul, heart, and mind.

Your coupling is almost violent in its ferocity, his hands at your hips slamming you down on him as you ride him with all the strength your legs can muster. His tongue and lips are pulling at your mouth, sucking and claiming, pushing you higher and higher, the ecstasy almost unbearable, your muscles beginning to clench around him—!

The taste of blood fills your mouth as he bites, pain and rapture shooting down through nerve endings alight with fire, pooling at your core and hurling you over the edge with the force of a tidal wave while he greedily drinks down mouthful after mouthful of your precious blood.

On and on the unbearable pleasure goes, and the world starts to fade around you, your overwrought senses giving up on trying to weather the euphoria swamping you, your body still spasming with aftershocks as he leans back with you cradled as closely to his chest as your entwined forms allow. And you fall asleep with his voice whispering in your mind…

“Ulaidh… Always. Eternity is ours.”


	13. Morkai/MC Fluff SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC is cold—so it's body heater Morkai to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC, sfw, fluff

You are going to freeze to death. You just know it. You told everyone that you would gather up wood for the fire, and you meant it. You wanted to be helpful. To give something back to the people that have given you so much. 

So if picking up wood to keep all of you warm is what you need to do, then that’s what you’ll do. But… It’s so damn cold. Your cloak has served you well up till now, but it’s starting to wear thin. It does not provide the warmth it used to.

You clench your teeth to keep them from chattering and try to gather one more piece with fingers that are beginning to grow numb. Just one more piece.

You push yourself until you can longer push and then hurry back to the campsite. Straasa is grooming his horse, and you can hear Daelynn softly sing something in elven from inside her tent. Eledwen is nowhere to be found. And where is…?

“Damn it all to hell!” 

Ah. There he is. Your heart clenches at the thought of him, his angry yell bringing a smile to your stinging lips. Who knows what has set him off this time. Maybe it’s just you, but you think his little outbursts are adorable.

You put the wood down next to the waiting firepit and sit down next to it, curling up into yourself, trying to bring back some warmth to your bones. You hear Straasa’s voice address you from where he’s standing.

“Hey… Are you okay?” 

You tentatively pull your hand out of the folds of your cloak to give him a thumbs-up, an unconvincing smile on your lips when you look at him. He is not impressed.

“This is what I get for saving you and that bloody mule?! This?!” Morkai bursts through the little clump of trees to your right, your darling steed’s reins in his hand. She follows after him serenely.

“What?” you manage to ask him, the glare he’s throwing you is so furious. You try not to start snickering.

“I take her out to find some decent grass, all out of the goodness of my heart, and what does she do? As soon as I bend down to gather some berries I found, she starts chewing on my hair! My hair!” 

He looks ready to murder something, and you think it’s probably you, but he is surprisingly gentle when he secures your four-legged friend next to Straasa’s horse. He really likes her, no matter what he says.

“Well…” you begin to reply when a mighty sneeze interrupts your words. It shakes you down to your very core, rattling your brain. You sniff your nose to keep it from happening again.

Morkai immediately stops his ranting and narrows his eyes at you. His gaze scans you from top to bottom, and it’s only now that he seems to realize how pathetic you look all curled in on yourself.

“What did you do this time?” he asks you, his voice flat. Uh oh. That’s the tone he uses when he’s displeased with something.

“Seems like someone got a bit of a cold,” Straasa snitches on you from his position, still tending to the horses, not looking at you. Traitor!

You can see Morkai’s left eye tick with his annoyance, and you try to give him a brittle smile. He’s not buying it.

He marches up to you, and without a single word uttered, he sits down next to you and grabs you by the waist. 

“WHA…!” you manage to squawk, but the rest of what you were going to say gets smushed against his chest. His heavy cloak drapes itself over you, and the sudden warmth that fills your bones makes you tingle.

He holds you close, pressed against him, sharing his body heat with you. You snuggle up against him without a second thought. This is nice.

“Idiots and nuisances, the lot of you. You and that damn donkey both,” he mutters grumpily to no one in particular.

“Hmm,” is all you respond with and he scoffs at you. A second passes, then two. Then his hand comes up to the back of your neck. He softly lets it rest it there, keeping you warm and safe.

And you can’t help but think “Yes. This is nice.”


	14. Morkai/MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC has been gone for a while—but now they're back. And Morkai has missed them. Stable shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC, NSFW, dry-humping, grinding, standing

You enter the courtyard, leading your horse toward the stables. It has been a long journey. You’re smelly, sticky, and famished. Also, you miss your redhaired grump.

You wonder how long it’s going to take him to show up. He better hurry it up, cause you have missed him something fierce. You lead the horse to his stall, waving away the help offered by the stable boy.

You go about taking care of the handsome fella for a bit until a beloved, annoyed voice bellows at you.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Your lips curve into a smile as you turn around to find Morkai standing at the entrance to the barn, his green eyes blazing, glaring daggers at you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you ask him innocently, and he’s still too far away to know for certain, but you’d bet good money that his eye is ticking right now.

“Get out,” he orders the stable boy rudely, who scrambles to get out of the angry man’s way. But you know he’s not angry. Not really.

He marches up to you like he’s fantasizing about murdering you and the look he’s giving you makes your knees go weak and your fingers numb. Damn, you’ve missed him. 

Then he’s finally standing in front of you, but he doesn’t stop moving—his hand shoots out and lands on your shoulder, pushing you back until your back touches the wall of the stall.

His body quickly follows, boxing you in, trapping. He presses so close it’s almost hard to breathe. You gasp at the euphoric feeling of feeling him against you at long last, his handsome face all you can see, his smell in your nostrils.

He puts a hand next to your head, the other one going straight for your buttocks. He grabs and pulls at your cheek, pressing your pelvis against his, and you feel the evidence of his desire for you plain as day.

You moan as he grinds insistently against you, and he grunts, annoyed, the friction not enough for his liking.

“Missed me, did you?” you ask him breathlessly as both his hands move to grab you under the thighs and lift. 

He easily pushes you against the wall, holding your weight and bring your legs to rest around his waist. Gods be praised, you are now aligned with each other perfectly.

“You didn’t?” he asks you testily before leaning forward and attacking your neck with his lips and teeth, sucking a punishing bruise against the column of your neck. You can barely think straight anymore.

“I…” you begin to say, having no idea how you intend on finishing that sentence.

“Shut up,” he orders you gruffly, his lips disengaging from your neck with one last sweep of his tongue and a pop. You moan at the heady sensation, raw lave coursing through your veins.

His fingers are gripping your buttocks so tightly, you know you’re going to have bruises once you’re done. He starts thrusting and grinding between your legs, pressing against you as close as he can considering the restrictions your clothes present.

“Morkai…” you whine wantonly, the stimulation overwhelming and not nearly enough. You need more of him. Now.

“What if someone…” you manage to string three words together, but even you don’t know why you’re still talking. The barn could come down on your heads right now, and you’re sure you’d barely notice.

He must think the same thing, because his lips crash against yours, finally, finally, giving you the kiss you’ve been craving for weeks, making you swallow his tongue.

His hips start moving harder against you, faster, his clothed length rubbing you juuust right, and combined with the mouth stealing your breath, you know you won’t last much longer.

“Stop talking. And just come for me,” he orders against your aching lips, his hot breath hitting your face, his smoldering eyes stealing away all reason. You follow his command as if on instinct, your body spasming helplessly in his grip as bliss erupts from deep inside of you.

“Morkai!”


	15. Morkai/MC SFW Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morkai puts a tired MC to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC, sweet, short, fluff

Morkai raises a single, unamused eyebrow and walks up to you, his height dwarfing you, his warmth seeping into your bones from how close he is. The spicy-sweet smell of cinnamon hits your nose, and the redhead lifts a hand toward your face. He cups it as you lean into his touch like a cat, but the fleeting contact lasts for only a second. He swiftly moves his hand away—only to flick your nose!

You gasp indignantly at the assault and cover he offended appendage with your hands, gracing the big bully with a glare that he matches head-on. You think he's asking for a fight, but the furrowed brow and thinned lips tell you otherwise.

"Gremlin, you need to sleep better," he grinds out in a long-suffering tone, real worry hiding behind the curtness of his words. Then without another word, he sweeps you up into his arms and carries you to the bed. He gets you both comfortable and presses your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart rapidly pulling you under.

"Sleep, precious… I'm here," he murmurs softly just before you fall asleep, and as with all things Morkai, you are powerless to resist.


	16. Morkai/MC SFW Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morkai has found some berries and is willing to share. For a price ;D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC Fluff, SFW, kissing, hand feeding

You are laying on your bedroll, trying to fall asleep, but your mind just won’t quiet down. How are you supposed to deal with all that has happened? You try to relax, but all these thoughts and worries keep whirling around in your mind, driving you nuts.

It’s going to be a long night. Just when you are about to give up on sleep and go out to keep Straasa company while he’s on watch, the flap to your tents lifts and Morkai comes in without even asking for permission. Not that you mind. He is welcome to come in at any time.

He is not wearing his jerkin, only a linen undershirt and trousers, and the fabric stretches against his shoulders enticingly. Your eyes follow the lines of his body downward, downward, until an evil-sounding chuckle brings you out of your stupor.

Why can’t you stop ogling when he’s around?! He knows it too, the damn man, and he encourages it at every given chance. He is now kneeling in front of you, his size almost too much for your tiny tent.

He is smirking at you, as per usual, his eyes taking you in from top to bottom.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks you softly, but the question is a rhetorical one. He knows you can’t. You notice suddenly that he is holding a little bundle of cloth in his hands.

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity peaking. Still smirking at you, he unwraps it slowly, making sure to drag it out as long as possible. You make a sound of impatience, and he finally gives in, unwrapping it fully and showing it to you with a little laugh.  
Berries. It’s berries. He brought you berries! Delighted, you quickly try to grab the offering, but he pulls it back and out of your reach. You look at him confused, and a bit disappointed. He just grins at you and wags his finger in front of your face.

“Ah, ah. They are for you, yes, but I have to get something out of it too, right?”

“My eternal gratitude is not enough?” you ask hopefully.

“Cute. But no.”

What a frustrating man. What does he want then?! Does he want some too? But then… Your questions are quickly dispelled as he picks up one of the plum fruits and slowly, deliberately, lifts it to your mouth.

He touches it against your lips and lets it rest there. You don’t open your mouth immediately, and he doesn’t push, just keeps it there, his eyes keeping you immobile. The heat in them as he looks at you makes you feel like you’re about to self-immolate.

“Be a sweetheart for me, won’t you? Do as I say.”

You are helpless, your very soul on fire as you nod at him without a word. As soon as you do, he gives you a beatific smile and finally, finally pushes the fruit past your lips, the tips of his fingers going into your mouth for just a second before pulling back.  
He keeps doing it, slowly bringing the offering to your mouth, looking deep into your eyes the whole time.

Each time his fingers go a little further in, deeper, until you are tasting his skin as much as you are tasting the berries. Then there are no more berries. You are so out of your mind with desire that you barely notice. Not wasting a moment, he throws the cloth to the side and gathers you into his arms, his mouth claiming your own at last.

When he pulls back, his eyes are glassy and scorching hot. You realize it’s going to be a long night. He slowly lifts the hand that was feeding you and brings it up so you can see it. His fingers are stained in black.

“Look what a mess you’ve made of me,” he whispers to you, his voice rough with lust. His eyes trail from your mouth to your chest, then lower still before he snaps them back up to your face. You can barely see the green in them.

“If you’re going to do something, better do it right, don’t you think?” he asks you huskily, but he doesn’t expect an answer as his stained fingers follow the trail his eyes did earlier.

He kisses you deeply just as his hand finds its mark, and you moan with abandon into his mouth. Yes. It’s going to be a long night.


	17. Morkai/F!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC has earned herself a punishment. Of the belt kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/F!MC, NSFW, BDSM, bondage, painplay, degradation, the MC likes being called names, breeding kink

Morkai runs his hand over the supple leather, its surface smooth and warm under his calloused fingers. A smirk pulls at the redhead's lips, and he makes a sound of satisfaction as he takes hold of the two ends of the belt and pulls it tight, making it crack loudly in the silence of the room.

A muffled sob comes from somewhere close his feet, and the smirk turns wicked, a wicked glim playing in his green eyes. He coos at the bound, shivering form huddled in front of him, on her knees, bound hands and knees, a gag firmly between her lips. He runs long fingers over her black tresses, crooning in comfort—and then he grabs her by the hair and pulls, making her back arch to look at him over her shoulder.

Her eyes are wide but unfocused, and drool is running down her cheek. Her ass cheeks are already red with the imprint of his hand, bitemarks littering almost every single inch of her—neck, breasts, thighs. There's even one right on her mount, and this one he took great pleasure in creating, her muffled screams music to his ear.

He then proceeded to eat her out until she was ready to cum, sucking and flicking his tongue over her clit and thrusting his fingers inside her clenching walls—only to stop at the last moment, leaving her to howl in distress at the ruined orgasm. And now here she is, trembling, begging with her eyes, her nipples peaked, her slickness running down her legs and onto the floor.

"What's wrong, Ali? Are you looking that forward to feeling my belt on your ass? Is it because you know you deserve it? Is it because you know that slutty bitches like you exist only to take my cock, to be bred and filled with cum and nothing else? Is it because you know that your fucking mouth flaps too much and should learn to keep it closed?"

Another whimper is his only answer, and he hums thoughtfully, pleased, taking her helplessness as confirmation that yes, she very much agrees with him. He softly cups her wet face and kneels down to press a soft, feather-light kiss upon her stretched-open lips, his fingers stroking between her wet folds and teasing her entrance as a reward.

"Don't worry, little piglet. I will teach you what you need to know. We have only just begun," he promises her in a low, husky voice—and then the loud crack of a belt hitting against sensitive skin rings throughout the night, followed closely by high-pitched, wailing squeals of pained delight.


	18. Morkai/MC Fluff SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day Morkai Hugged The Fair Lady Mule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC, fluff, sfw

Your party is sitting by the side of the road, resting against the sickly trees growing there. Straasa is talking to the leader of the caravan you encountered, engaged in an animated conversation with him.  
Morkai groans from his resting place against one of the young trees, a large hand coming up to cover his face in frustration.

“Get comfortable, people. We’ll be here for a while,” he announces sourly.

“What? Why?” Eledwen asks surprised.

“Cause Straasa just loves to barter with merchants. Not because he wants to spare money either. He likes the game of it.”

Eledwen stares at him then glances at Straasa, then back to Morkai. She doesn’t look like she believes him. Daelynn next to her bursts into laughter.

“The golden boy likes to haggle! Will wonders never cease?!” she cackles, immensely amused. She takes Eledwen by the hand and looks at you.

“We’re going to look around for a bit. Want to come with?” she asks you with a mischievous smile.

“We are?” Eledwen asks surprised.

“We are,” Daelynn confirms seriously, then looks at you again. You think it over for a while.

“Morkai,” you begin uncertainly, “would you mind looking after my Bean for a while?” He spares you but a single glance before he stretches out his hand, indicating that you should give him the reins. You do so happily.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he merely grunts at you. Bean looks pleased enough with this turn of events.

You follow Daelynn into her impromptu adventure, Eledwen being pulled reluctantly along, leaving Morkai, Bean, and the happily haggling Straasa behind.

After a while, the three of you return to the point you left your friends, having found absolutely nothing worthy of notice. Also, the sun is shining so hotly on the skin of your face, you think you’re about to get a sunburn.

You finally spot them down the road. The sight that greets you steals your breath. Straasa is done with the merchant and is sitting on the ground opposite Morkai, his eyes intent on his friend, his face split by a huge grin.

He looks like the cat that got the cream, and you can understand why. Morkai has dozed off against the tree, but that’s not the best part about the picture he paints. Bean has decided that she had had enough of standing up. Also that the patch of dirt right next to Morkai looks particularly inviting.

She has laid down next to him, her rump pushing up against his side. And the redhead, for his part, seems to have decided in his sleep that the furry body next to him is more comfortable to lean against rather than the tree.

He is all but draped over her, one of his hands is even resting on top her body. He looks really comfy like that. Also, adorable. Bean seems to think so too, judging from her face of donkey satisfaction.

Alas, however, this beautiful image is not meant to last. Daelynn takes one look at the tableau and bursts out laughing, big loud guffaws that would be enough to wake the dead. Morkai, despite his current relaxed state, is not dead and he startles awake with a gasp, his hand reaching for his greatsword.

“Aww,” both you and Straasa say at the same time, bummed out. It was beautiful while it lasted. 

The incident was unanimously named “The Day Morkai Hugged Bean.”


	19. Morkai/F!MC/Manerkol AU NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Morkai, Manerkol, and a F!MC are soulmates. And she gets too cheeky with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/F!MC/Manerkol NSFW, double penetration, name calling, degradation, biting, leash, master and slave, painplay, hair pulling, pet play

If you had any dignity left, you’d be protesting your current predicament—if being the keyword here. But as things stand, you have neither the pride nor the will to resist. You did in the beginning. When your two soulmates strode into the room, all long lines and confidence, your mind all but blanked.

Up to the point where it kicked into high-gear, that is. Manerkol had his hand wrapped around Morkai’s wrist, possessive and proprietory. And although your redhead was not shaking the hold off, you could see that they were probably fighting over something before. And as per usual, Manerkol won. 

Perhaps it is unworthy of you to think this, but you’ve always found it insanely hot whenever the two of them are locked into a battle for dominance—more often than not about you. But it’s just so sexy, seeing them push and pull against each other.

So maybe you sometimes facilitate their competition with a little bit of well-placed cheekiness. Perhaps this should be something you could try this time too? 

…

And those were your famous last words before both of them descended upon you. Your bitch of a Stone chose that precise moment to stop shielding your thoughts, allowing your soulmates direct access into your less than innocent thoughts.

So when the two men turned their sharp attention towards you at the exact same moment, almost as if they were a single entity… Yup, there was no escaping your doom. And thus, you ended up in the position you now find yourself in.

On your hands and knees, legs splayed open, a leash hanging from your neck, a large hand buried in your black locks. You are panting, and a long streak of drool is hanging down your lips and chin, the pounding you’re getting from behind hard enough to blast all thought from your brain.

Morkai is making you arch your back to the point of pain, his unyielding grip on your hair making you present yourself to him like the obedient little fucktoy you are, offering your soaking wet hole to him to use and abuse as he pleases.

The leash that he’s pulling at is making it so hard to breathe that you’re getting dizzy, and the thick cock slamming away at your cervix is making you gasp with every strained breath taken. And Manerkol watches it all, unfazed, no signs of emotion in his collected composure.

One particularly hard thrust later, and you’re keening mindlessly, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you try to grind yourself against the hard flesh fucking the living daylights out of you. And then your tongue is gripped between two ice-cold fingers.

Manerkol grips the soft muscle tightly and pulls it as far as it can go, making you look up to him, staring into his hooded red eyes as Morkai grunts in satisfaction by how you’re clenching onto his length even harder.

“That’s it, you little bitch—squeal for me. Squeal like the good little fuckpig that you are.” The redhead’s pace gets even more brutal as you clamp down on his cock, mocking laughter echoing in the room as your hole gushes yet another wave of slickness, making a mess of your thighs.

“Is this truly what you enjoy, Alicia? Degraded and abused, used as nothing but a hole for him to breed, a warm body to take in his seed. Is this what you dream about every time you challenge him, when you offer yourself to him, wet and wanting?”

Manerkol’s demeaning words slice through your veins and pool right between your thighs, proving without the shadow of a doubt that yes, you enjoy being Morkai’s little slave. Beloved and coveted, soaked and hungry, ready to take in any degradation, any praise so long as it means that you will get bred just so. 

You want him to pour his seed as deep inside you as you can get him, you want him to keep going even after he has, to continue using you, sloppy and loose as you are from his large cock, a cock that you could barely handle when he took you for the first time.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, pet.”

Your King’s sharp voice breaks through the haze of bliss holding you in its grasp, the ecstasy of having Morkai pound you so hard that your hips and thighs ache from the impact of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your swollen clit mercilessly, just as mercilessly as he pulls at your leash and hair.

You manage to focus your blurry gaze, and Manerkol’s displeased visage fills your sight, his lips thinned, his elegant eyebrow arched as he watches you get ravaged in the most shameful way imaginable. You try to beg for forgiveness, but only broken, slurred sounds leave your lips, reminiscent of an animal in heat.

You try to use your still stretched out tongue to lick at his cruel fingers, to ask for forgiveness, but he abruptly lets go. The abused flesh starts throbbing and burning the moment he does, and you would have wept at the delicious pain if you didn’t have far more important things to worry about.

Things like Manerkol grabbing your leash in one fluid, too quick to see movement and pulling you up, up, as far as you can go without dislodging Morkai’s ramming member from inside you. You are now bared to him in all your debauched glory, your nipples peaked, your sodden thighs shaking as slickness runs down your folds and hole and straight onto the floor.

And that is when he strikes—he kneels in front of you and leans forward, his sharp teeth latching onto your throbbing nipples and biting. His sharp fangs pierce your swollen flesh with sickening ease, and the scream that tears itself from your throat would have been one of pure agony—if he didn’t start suckling on your nipple immediately, the suction so strong, his tongue playing with it so euphoric that you really have no choice but to cum all over yourself and Morkai’s cock.

You wail and thrash, clench and moan, drool and push back, push forward, impaling yourself on the thick shaft battering your overwrought walls, pushing your abused nipple further in your vampire’s mouth, his free hand pinching and pulling the other one.

“That’s it, feel it, little slut. Cum all over yourself as he milks you, feed him. This is what you were made for, isn’t it? Nothing but a breeder for he and I, a vessel for my seed, a blood bag for him. Do you want me to cum inside you as he drinks you up? Say it, Alicia!” 

What starts as husky amusement turns to demanding taunts as Morkai slams all the way inside you and starts grinding, pushing the head of his erection harshly against your cervix, using the abused opening to your womb as his own personal milker, there to massage him and receive his cum.

Speech is beyond you as you keep coming apart on his shaft, your excruciating orgasm still going strong, robbing you of all sense of self. You cream and cream on his cock, your eyes rolled back as you release stream after stream of cum.

And it’s fortunate that you do—because Manerkol tears away from your well-sucked out breast with no warning only to grab your leg and lift, bringing you between his and Morkai’s body before he plunges into your loosened up hole with no preamble.

Light bursts before your eyes, a searing nova of energy wiping away all else as you are stretched to capacity and beyond, your core now spasming and cumming harder than ever if only to keep onto your sanity.

You are squashed between their hard bodies, no room left to breathe, impaled on their lengths and orgasming as if your life depended on it, the agonizing pleasure the only thing strong enough to keep you from breaking apart from the unimaginable stretch.

And when Morkai roars in triumph, his thick shaft pistoning inside your ravaged insides before he comes apart buried deep within, painting both his and Manerkol’s cocks with his thick cum… When Manerkol reaches between your bodies and pinches your clit with exquisite cruelness, his sharp teeth striking at your neck…

When Morkai’s harshly-spoken order breaks through the haze of unbearble ecstasy… 

“Cum, little slut—now.” 

You simply obey like the good little girl you are—and let go.


	20. Morkai/MC/Straasa NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morkai and Straasa pay special attention to their beloved MC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC/Straasa, NSFW, oral

You sit on the bed with a heavy sigh and then plop down. It’s not the softest thing you’ve ever laid upon, but it sure beats your bedroll any day. The sounds from the tavern below are muted, a dull throbbing at the back of your head.

Gods, you needed this— a little reprieve from the road. You’ll move on soon enough, but you intend to squeeze as much leisure out of this little detour as you can. There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call out, not bothering to even look up. The door opens up with a little more force than necessary, so that’s how you know Morkai has returned from his trip to the kitchen.

“Tired, precious?” he asks you with a chuckle. The bed next to you dips, and the smell of forests and leather fills your nostrils. Straasa is back too.

“Mmm…” you complain loudly, rolling on your back until your head is resting on your lover’s lap. Straasa’s strong fingers immediately move to massage your scalp, and the sensation is divine.

You moan again, louder this time, pressing your face against Straasa’s stomach. The bed on the other side of dips as well, announcing Morkai’s arrival. As if the evil chuckle he releases was not enough indication.

“Food is not what is on your mind, is it?” he asks you slyly, and you don’t answer, instead try to teasingly move away from where the redhead’s leg is pressing against your own.

He grabs it with a large hand, placing it right back where he wants it. His fingers squeeze your flesh warningly.

“Careful now. You’ll make me think you prefer Straasa over me,” he cautions you silkily, a threat in his words.

“Morkai, come on. Our love is tired, that’s all,” Straasa tries to intervene, his magic fingers moving from your scalp to your neck.

“You try to make it look like you are so gallant and selfless when it’s actually you that’s doing all the touching,” your green-eyes man accuses, and Straasa can do nothing but laugh helplessly at that.

“Can’t deny that much,” he agrees teasingly, taking his hands away from your neck and moving them lovingly over your upper torso. Morkai’s breath next to you gets heavier. As does yours. 

“Okay, that’s it, both of you on the bed. Now.”

You dare to move your head from Straasa’s lap and look up into his laughing blue eyes. He grins at you hungrily, showing off his teeth.

“You heard his Majesty,” he instructs playfully and leans back a bit from you. 

“Damn right,” Morkai confirms and his hand cups your neck from behind, pulling you away from Straasa and guiding you firmly to lay down on the bed proper.

You finally open your eyes and find two gorgeous men staring at you like you are a feast to be devoured, the color of their eyes all but extinguished by the black of their pupils. Gods, to be so wanted by these powerful men, it drives you mad.

You can’t help the moan their ravenous gazes elicit, and you can feel your face burning up from desire and embarrassment.

“Love…” Straasa calls you reverently, his hands landing on your torso again, roving over your body. Morkai leans down toward your face, his lips barely an inch against yours.

“That’s it, precious, feel it…” he orders you as Straasa starts to take your clothes off. The redhead’s mouth claims you, going deep, stealing your breath. Your naked flesh is bared to the cold air of the room, and you shiver.

You don’t stay cold for long, however. Straasa’s hand grips yours where they are laying on the bed before his mouth descends on the hottest part of you. You moan helplessly into Morkai’s mouth, and he swallows your moans, his hand traveling down your body to finally grip Straasa’s hair, controlling his movements.

His lips detach from yours, and you whine in distress. He shushes you gently.

“Shh, precious, I’m here,” he promises and then moves lower down your body. One of his broad hands grab your buttocks, lifting up and against Straasa’a moaning mouth before he latches his own lips onto one of your nipples.

You can feel fire running through your veins, Morkai’s mouth suckling with bruising strength as Straasa’s pace gets quicker. They keep pushing you higher and higher until you are drawn so tight you think you’ll break.

Morkai switches nipples. He works on the new one a bit, making it puff up and throb. Then he bites down. The shout you have been holding in finally tears itself from your throat, your world exploding into stars. All you can think is only one thing.

“I love you, I love you, I love you… I love you both so much…”


	21. F!Stone/F!MC AU NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F!Lapis doms the F!MC in her dreams—but they both yearn for what cannot be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F!Lapis/F!MC, NSFW, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral, domming

Your shoulders ache and burn as you’re suspended off the ground, the tips of your toes just barely touching the foggy earth. You squirm and writhe, trying to get free—not because you really have the will for it or think you can do it but…

It’s more of a learned response. Your whole body is covered in hickeys and bruises, the red marks clear evidence of Lapis’ mouth running over your flesh. And proof of her ownership. Heart, body, mind, and soul—she owns you.

Her hands run over you slowly, the long nails roaming your sensitized skin, scratching—but thankfully not breaking the surface. You can’t see anything, the blindfold she has covering your eyes makes sure of that. You can only feel—feel as she breaks you apart, using pleasure and pain to crush you into tiny little pieces, the shuddering of your orgasmic body a sharp contrast to your screaming mind.

But she takes it all in stride. Your Mistress, the being that’s bound to your soul till the end of time. You imagine her with your mind’s eyes—the long, silken red tresses, the moss green eyes, full lips that smile cruelly at you every time her harsh words bring a tear to your eye. Tears that she licks away.

You can’t see her, but her presence is enormous, your body trained to respond to her smallest move. Her claws trail over your pebbled nipples followed closely by her hot breath, all the way down your stomach, your waist, the nails etching thin rivers of red on your trembling skin.

They circle your inner thighs, swiping away at the slickness running down your legs and into the ground—you don’t know how long she has kept you like this, climax after pained climax until you are nothing but a mess of shuddering flesh and overwrought emotions.

She pulls her hand away—then her full mouth latches onto your nub, her tongue rubbing, her cheeks hollowing with the strength of the suction as her blunt fingers thrust their way deep inside you. She doesn’t stop as you cry out, doesn’t give you a moment’s pause.

She will force you into yet another agonizing release, your oversensitive flesh struggling to keep the pleasure from becoming too much and failing. And every time she leans down and swipes her tongue over your slit, licking you clean and claiming all evidence of your orgasms for her own. But you’re certain that one more orgasm and you’ll go mad.

“Lapis, please, please stop! I can’t..!” you wail with words that you didn’t think you were able to form—all for naught. She curves her fingers and presses up, hitting the spongy spot that makes you see stars, the ecstasy so severe that your arching back almost snaps in half as you orgasm your life away.

A soundless scream tears at your throat, your knees giving out and letting your abused shoulders carry all the weight of your dangling body. You hang like a puppet, heavy, boneless, defeated—then the vines holding you up suddenly disappear. You crash to the ground, too abused to protest, the pain just another inescapable torment that you’re coming to love.

But then gentle hands slowly turn you to your back and take the blindfold off, soft lips pressing a reverent kiss on each closed eyelid. A melodious voice coos at you, her now gentle hands cupping your face and brushing her nose and mouth over your tear-stricken face.

“Look at me, Deirdre,” she commands in a deceivingly loving tone—her moods are mercurial, and you know that a single misstep can have her punishing you again in some way or another. So you wearily do as she says, almost too exhausted to obey but too frightened not to.

You stare at her gorgeous face, the deep gold and blue scales running up her sinfully soft skin, swirling at the edges of her heavy breasts, breasts that she’s made you suck, again and again—your breasts, Gods why is this so twisted, so deranged, why can’t you stop wanting..?!

“Open your mouth.”

You do as she asks, staring enraptured at her horns as she feeds you your own spendings, twirling her fingers around your tongue and going deep, making you taste it all the way to the back of your throat. You gag around the abusing digits but keep going, not pulling away—because you’re afraid, of course. Not because you want her to use you roughly, to make you take everything she gives and beg for more no matter what it costs you.

“What do you say?” she asks sharply once she pulls her fingers away, your saliva dripping from them as she lets it fall onto your skin. Her green eyes are burning with a cold flame, and you swallow thickly as you stare up at her, drinking in the vision of her existence.

“Thank you, Mistress…” you whisper lowly, and she smirks approvingly at you. She uses the hand you licked clean to stroke your cheek, her smirk turning sensual and cruel as she drinks in your disheveled mess.

“You deserve a reward, don’t you, my love? For being so obedient?” You nod weakly in response, your body shuddering as countless scenarios of what she might do to you run through your mind.

“Please…” you beg shamelessly, any resolve you might have had now long gone. She chuckles darkly at the desperation in your voice, sinuously pressing her dripping core against your stomach and slowly making her way up, coating your skin in her slickness and branding you as her creature for all time.

Her strong fingers grab two handfuls of your hair, the pain of her rough yank making you delirious with desire as her scent hits your nostrils, your tongue mindlessly reaching out to taste her as she smothers your face between her thighs.

The pace she sets is brutal, riding your face harshly, covering your nose and mouth with her dripping folds until you think you’ll faint from lack of air, your lungs, and scalp burning as she uses you like nothing but a toy.

The closer she gets, the wetter everything becomes, the lewd sounds of your mouth suckling and licking at her mixing with her increasingly drawn-out moans. And at the back of your throat, you feel an intense burn the more of her essence you swallow down.  
You know there’s something off about it, something dark and addictive, making you crave more of it with each second that passes, making you feel your soul twist and break inside of you, all the vile things she whispers in your ears suddenly not seeming as bad anymore.

You can feel the corruption spread through your nerves, your very heart, like a disease—a disease you are powerless to resist. A disease you can’t get enough of. You imagine it like hair-thin tendrils running through your body, eradicating anything in their path that is not Lapis and leaving behind nothing but ruin and ecstasy.

Harder and harder she pushes against your face, her fingers playing with her nub as she makes you suckle at her opening, your ravenous mouth aching with the force of your desire, you need it, you need it, in you, over you, everywhere—!

Her passage starts to spasm around your tongue, the nails of her free hand breaking through your scalp, her lithe form shuddering as she lets out a long moan of completion— you brace yourself for the euphoric high that will swamp you once her climax paints your lips, aching for it, craving it, you will go mad, Lapis—!

You wake up with a start, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold in the scream of despair threatening to escape. You are cold and alone, shivering in your bedroll, the need for something impossible clawing at your throat like a beast trying to get out. A cold voice soothes you.

“Soon, my love… Soon…” she promises silkily. She flashes you images of yourself with your own fingers buried between your legs, showing you what she wants of you—you obey her without thought.

You know what this is, what she’s doing. She’s manipulating you, grooming you. Remaking you into something of her own design. And it’s working. You can’t fight anymore. You don’t even want to. And as your fingers thrust deep inside your own body, you clench and moan, thinking of the face that’s your own but not, of claws and horns and tails. Your body clamps down…

And you dream of the day when it all comes true.

“Soon…”


	22. Straasa/MC Angst NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC dreams of the man holding her heart—the man who is now far, far away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straasa/MC Angst NSFW

You are surrounded by a mist so thick, you can’t find your way out. There’s only you and the barren white landscape around you. No matter which way you turn, which path you try to follow. There’s nothing.

You only have one thing to guide you. His voice. His deep voice, faint with distance yet all around you at the same time, his dulcet tones raised in song. You can’t make out the words, only the feelings behind it. Sorrow. Longing.

“Straasa…” you whisper into the bleak wasteland, whisps of earthbound clouds slithering and shimmering all around you. You twist and turn, trying to follow his voice, trying to find him, but every time you think you are close, the song changes direction.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to see him, you need to find him, you can’t bear to be without him anymore! Your legs give out beneath you, and you collapse to the wet soil, the smell of it engulfing you. Reminding you of him.

“Straasa!” you scream into the unfeeling void it, your cry a plea and a demand at the same time.

“Give him back to me… Please,” you whisper brokenly, and the sweet song suddenly stops. You are left with nothing.

Then a gentle hand lays itself on your shoulder. You snap your head around, desperate hope burning in your chest. He is there. Right there, standing at your back, his blue eyes overflowing with his love for you.

Before you can even think to move, he falls to his knees, gathering you into his arms, pulling you into his lap. He guides your head to the crook of his neck, urging you to nestle it there. Your overwhelmed tears bathe his skin.

“Shh… Hush, my heart, I’m here,” he promises, and that only makes you cry harder. He gently cradles the back of your head as his other hand begins to wander. He traces the dips and slopes of your body, his fingers applying pressure against your skin, his caresses going muscle-deep.

You moan against his neck with relief, but soon your moans take on a different tone. His hand grips and pulls you, pressing you against his firm form, making you feel him, letting you know for yourself how much he loves you. How much he desires you.

The hand at your head joins its twin in their exploration of you, slipping under your clothes to make love to naked skin. You finally dare to lift your face from his neck, and you look into his love-filled eyes with desperation both carnal and emotional.

“Straasa,” you beg him, and he shushes your pleas with his mouth, stealing your breath, sucking on your tongue. He swallows down your moans as he feeds you his in return. The hands on your skin grab under your thighs and lift, slotting you against him.

He grinds himself against you, his mouth leaving yours and traveling down your throat. He licks and kisses every inch of skin he finds, bathing you in his desire. You push your pelvis against his, needing to feel him, have him, it’s not enough!

Then all of a sudden your world is tilted backward, and you back connects with the fragrant earth beneath you. He looms over you, not threatening, a protector. Blocking all that might harm you with his broad back, his misty eyes, his puffed-up lips.

He leans forward and touches his forehead to yours, your eyes locking, a myriad of emotions reflected and absorbed. Your love transcends everything. You are meant to be. And you are finally together.

Suddenly his hand is right there, teasing you, driving the heat inside you higher and higher. His links the fingers of his other hand with yours, his breath fanning your face, his eyes making love to you just like his fingers are.

He strings you up tighter and tighter, picking up the rhythm, no longer playing. His fingers squeeze, push, tug against you, your body an instrument he knows how to play. He is merciless in the pursuit of your pleasure, his intensity almost painful in its desire. But you want to give him what he wants, you want to so bad.

Your panting becomes erratic, your muscles burning and twitching as they tighten up. You can barely breathe, the fire burning through your veins eliminating all else until there is nothing left but his fingers on your flesh, his eyes drinking you in, his lips only an inch away from yours.

Your body quivers and struggles, almost there, but it’s not enough, it’s not enough, you need more of him, now!

“Kiss me! Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!” you beg desperately, the force of your desire driving you mad. Like an avenging angel, he swoops down on you, the fingers holding your hand crushing it in their grasp, his tongue entering your mouth and going deep, sucking your breath and your love into himself.

You can hold on no longer. With the force of a tidal wave, your orgasm rips through your body, bathing his fingers with the evidence of your ardor, the evidence of the ecstasy he brings you. It goes on and on, stealing your senses, his mouth still suckling at you like he is starving.

The waves of bliss crash against your body, making you feel weak, heavy, out of control. Drifting away from him. No! Not yet, please, just a little longer! 

The Gods don’t respond to your anguish. With your body still spasming in the aftershocks, you are thrust back through time and reality, but into your cold and empty bedroll, the melodious song from before the last thing you hear before you wake up with a gasp.

You look around you terrified, desperately craving comfort, reassurance. There is none to be found. You are alone. He is not here.

“Straasa,” you whisper, inconsolable, silent tears streaming down your cheecks, falling and becoming one with the mist that has begun to gather around you.


	23. Straasa/MC Fluff SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC and Straasa are browsing wares at an open market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straasa/MC Fluff SFW

The two of you walk through the market, your bodies almost close enough to touch. You had lost Morkai and Daelynn a while ago, the two of them supposedly having other things to do.

Probably drinking themselves under the table at the tavern. You couldn’t even begin to wonder where Eledwen was. As soon as hubs of civilization came into play, she made herself scarce.

Maybe it was for the better. Now you get to spend some time alone with Straasa. You sorely need it. You turn your head to look at him and find him browsing jewelry. Does he like shiny things?

He senses your regard and turns around to look at you, his expression soft and happy, his full lips stretched in a beautiful smile. He reaches out with his arm and brings it around your shoulders, squeezing you gently.

“What is it?” he asks you, “Do you like anything here?” His voice sounds so light to your ears, like he is years younger. You shake your head negatively. You haven’t even looked at the jewels. 

It’s him you like. You want to tell him that, make him realize how insanely you want to always be by his side. But the words are stuck in your throat, the blue of his eyes drowning you.

He doesn’t say anything, and softly urges you to keep moving with the hand he has on you. You do as he prompts, not paying any attention to the market anymore.

A gaggle of people in a hurry rushes past you, pushing against you with more force than is strictly necessary. His hold on you tightens, and he brings you flush against his body, protecting you from the raucous activity around you.

“Are you alright?” he asks a bit concerned when they are finally past you.

“Yes,” you answer him lowly, “I’m fine.”

You want to burrow under his skin, make yourself a home there. He feels so nice and warm against you. So safe. Your kind-hearted savior.

You feel fingers touch beneath your chin, softly but insistently raising your face so he can meet your eyes. They lock onto you with the intensity of a thousand suns, so earnest in their affection that they take your breath away.

“I’ll always try to keep you safe,” he promises in a whisper, his expression almost looking pained. He means this—this is important.

“I know,” you reply, lifting your head up, desperate to feel his lips against yours. He looks at your lips intently, his gaze growing hot. 

He begins to slowly lower his head until you can almost feel his breath upon you. 

“Something sweet for your sweetheart, sir? Some candy?” the vendor from the booth next to you calls out, and the two of you startle.

Straasa quickly pulls his head back, but doesn’t pull completely away, thank the Gods. You don’t think you’d have been able to handle that.

“No, thank you,” he tells the man in a tone that is unusual for him, almost cold. Then he hesitates and looks to you.

“Unless you’d want some?” he asks you uncertainly. You shake your head in the negative, and he smiles. 

His hand leaves your shoulders and instead moves down to take your hand. He links your fingers together and squeezes.

“What about you? I thought you liked sweet things,” you ask him honestly. The smile he gives you is enough to blind you with its brilliance.

“You’re all the sweetness that I need,” he tells you tenderly before he resumes walking down the road, keeping you close to him.

“Yes,” you think, “he’s all you need too.”


	24. Straasa/F!MC Fluff SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The F!MC is about to meet Straasa's family for the first time, and she's nervous. Perhaps putting on some make-up will make her feel more confident?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straasa/F!MC SFW Fluff

You fret as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, unsatisfied with the result of your efforts. This is a serious business—it’s the first time you’ll meet Straasa’s family, and you want to make a good impression, dammit! 

You spent hours making sure that your clothes fit you just so, that not a hair is out of place on your head, that you accentuated your face properly with the powders and oils and khol sticks that you were given by the housemaids.

Straasa had been present for that exchange, and he had sputtered indignantly when the maids pointedly passed you these items, gently but firmly chastising them for the assumption and telling them to take them back.

You have to admit—you had no idea what these things were for. Never before had you seen them in your life, so curiosity burned bright in you. You held on to them and had the maids explain what they were for. 

When you found out they were items to make you look more presentable, your cheeks blushed with embarrassment, the beauty products suddenly too heavy in your arms. You watched as Straasa’s face tightened up with displeasure, and once more told the maids to take them away. But something made you stop him.

“No, please, I…” you managed to croak through a suddenly parched throat “…I want to use them. If I’m shown how.” Straasa paused and turned to look at you, an anxious frown painting his features.

“Are you sure, my heart? You don’t need them, not one bit,” he reassured you with absolute honesty in typical Straasa fashion. He believed every word he said, yet you wanted to try at least, pretty yourself up for him.

You gave him a nod and a smile before ushering him out of the room so that the maids could teach you how to apply everything. So here you now stand, more beautiful than you’ve ever looked in your life, yet feeling distinctly off.

Like the person staring back at you was a stranger with their skin stretched too tightly over their flesh and bones. Who is this creature with eyes drawn in khol, with red lips and unblemished cheeks? Do you know her? And most importantly, does Straasa?

You are so embroiled in your insecure thoughts that you don’t hear the door to the room opening and soft footsteps coming your way. It is only when two strong arms wrap around your waist, and Straasa’s gorgeous face appears in the mirror that you realize you’re no longer alone.

He lets his chin rest on your shoulder as he smiles, his blue gaze pinning you to the spot with its intensity. You swallow thickly, basking in the love in his gaze, the love he never hides. Well, at least you no longer wonder if he’ll know you after all these layers. You raise your hands and rest them on his laced arms almost desperately.

“Problem?” he murmurs against your ear, his breath tickling you and making you shiver. You feel strangely vulnerable, raw even—so you choose to distract him and not mention how weird you’re feeling.

“You’re not supposed to see me before the event, you know,” you joke weakly, a strained grin pulling at your lips, and he hums in consideration against your skin before placing a barely-there kiss against the column of your throat.

“I thought that was only true about weddings,” he muses with a faux-serious expression on his face. “I didn’t know meeting my family counts as that; I would have brought the ring with me had I known.”

The words are uttered in such a nonchalant, matter of fact tone that you almost choke on your own spit, your eyes growing to the size of saucers. You stare at him with your mouth hanging open, and he graces you with such a sweetly innocent smile that you can’t help bursting into laughter.

On and on the torrent of mirth goes, wiping away all doubts and insecurities. Here you were, worrying about him knowing you under all the frills, and the man himself is casually talking about marriage. As if it is a certainty, something that will happen in your future if you want it.

When the laughter finally dies down, you are still held tightly in his arms, and his eyes are fixed on your still grinning face, infinite fondness swimming in the blue depths, a soft smile curving his full lips.

“There you are…” he whispers reverently into your ear, his words so full of appreciation and wonder almost as if he has found a priceless treasure. You swallow thickly at the adoration in his tone, and your hands on his arms tighten, holding him as close to you as humanly possible.

“Straasa…” you choke out helplessly, your voice too thick to speak, to convey what you’re feeling. The cherubic smile you get in response tells you that there’s nothing more you need to say. He understands. He always understands. 

He presses a single, burning kiss to the back of your ear, his lips trailing the shell for a moment almost as if he can’t help savoring your scent, the feel of your skin. Then he pulls back and grins roguishly at you, his arms around you tightening for a moment before he steps back.

He extends his hand to you, a silent invitation to link it with his. “Shall we?” he asks confidently, his body silently conveying everything you need to know. He’s right here, right beside you. And as you take that beloved hand and step with him to meet this new reality of your life, you know…

There is nothing you can’t face with this man by your side.


	25. Morkai/MC/Straasa NFSW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A BDSM scene where the MC is tied up and at his two lovers' mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC/Straasa, NSFW, bondage, face-riding, oral

Straasa runs his hand up and down your thigh, soothing you, calming you down. His warmth seeps into your very bones, his touch on you stimulating your skin.

“Are you alright? It’s not too tight, right my heart?” his deep voice croons at you, his hand stroking down your thighs, your calf, all the way to the bindings at your ankles that are keeping you spread wide open.

You try to answer him, but all that comes out is a ragged moan, your mouth otherwise occupied. Morkai runs a gentle hand through your hair, a striking contrast compared to the measured, unrelenting thrusts of his strong hips against your face.

He is holding you by the back of the head, his muscled thighs bracketing you, making you take him in deep into your mouth—not deep enough to gag you, yet more than enough to make you focus on nothing but him, his hungry eyes boring into you, pleasuring himself as much as he is you.

“Of course it’s not too tight, right my precious? You like it like this, tied, helpless to my will, mine to pleasure or torment as I see fit,” he chuckles darkly, his hands leaving your head to travel up your bound arms, finally wrapping around your trapped wrists.

You try to moan, beg, anything, but he thrusts harder, cutting you off, forcing you to taste him all the way to the back of your throat. His large hands stroke your sensitive flesh, every single inch of you electrified, completely at his mercy.

He moans softly, his red hair unbound, running over his broad shoulders like a waterfall, tickling your face. You look at his almost entirely black eyes, tears blurring your own and you can’t help but whimper with need, with a desire so overwhelming you can barely think. 

You can only focus on one thing; you love him. You love him more than life, than reason, than your very soul. Irrevocably. Forever. A silent, salty drop runs down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his fingers tenderly.

“Shh…” he calms you, comforts you, keeps you safe. He slowly begins to rise, taking his heat away with him, your mouth suddenly left achingly empty, your lips stinging. You try to swallow, and your jaw aches, overstretched.

“Straasa, come up here, baby. Our precious one needs consoling,” he orders your partner. The caring, massaging hands lift from your thighs, and you can’t help but mourn their presence but be relieved as well. He was driving you crazy— his strong fingers pushing against your muscles, making you clench and tighten with desire but never touching you where you really needed him too. Morkai’s orders.

Your cruel red-haired master moves away from you, and your vision is filled with the face of your blue-eyed angel, his gaze filled with all the love and devotion in the world. And naked, raw desire. How can one look at you like they want to revere you and wreck you at the same time?

“Take him in your mouth, precious. Give him the ecstasy you just gave me,” Morkai demands, settling between your legs, his breath blowing scorching hot air against your core. You shiver from the top of your head all the way to the soles of your feet, goosebumps breaking all over your skin.

Straasa bends and chastely kisses your lips before mounting your face, his length entering your ravenous mouth in one smooth glide. He doesn’t stretch you as widely as Morkai does, but he goes deeper, making you feel him all the way back.

“Beautiful…” he whispers, awed, his hips pushing against you in an aborted little thrust that he just couldn’t help, his eyes brimming with adoration. It’s him that’s beautiful. Your gorgeous, gentle giant.

Morkai has had enough of teasing you. His hot mouth descends on you, at last, sucking and licking with deadly intent. His mouth moves against you as if starving, and you know that you won’t last much longer.

Your arms and legs tense involuntarily, pulling against your bindings, but you can’t move an inch, your reach restricted, prey to Morkai’s capricious generosity. Straasa sinks into your mouth quicker, urgently, his speed picking up, the taste on your tongue growing stronger, his fingers branding the line jaw from where he is holding on to you.

You start moaning uncontrollably as your body prepares to climax, your muscles hardening into rock, Morkai dragging bliss from within your core, Straasa moaning in tandem with you as he struggles to hold back.

It’s useless. None of you can control it any longer. Your mouth is flooded with the evidence of your angel’s rapture, triggering your own explosion as Morkai sucks and sucks at you, draining your quivering, straining body of every last drop of orgasmic delirium.

There is only one last thought dominating your mind before sweet oblivion claims your oversensitized body and soul.

You are here. You are theirs. And you are loved.


	26. Morkai/MC SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome message from Morkai to the members of my Discord server, shared on his channel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC SFW

A smug smirk welcomes you the moment you enter, a pair of green eyes glimmering triumphantly in the low light.

He is leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his long hair draped over one muscular shoulder. He looks for all intents and purposes like the cat that got the cream.

"Hey, there, precious. Couldn't keep away, huh?" his deep voice chuckles as he takes a step forward. The weight of his scorching gaze is on you, his large body coming closer.

Once he's close enough to feel the heat of his body, he looks down his nose at you, his gaze predatory—yet for one tiny moment in time, you swear you see his eyes soften as he takes in your features, a sharp inhale following his perusal.

Then the moment blinks by, there and gone again. He leans over you, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as he tugs you forward, almost flush to him. 

You feel his hot breath fan over your skin, making your nerves tingle. His fingers squeeze your flesh, the green depths of his eyes beckoning you to follow him. Wherever that is.

"Shall we?" he growls dangerously against your lips, and you realize—there is no place he could go where you would not follow.


	27. Straasa/MC SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome message from Straasa to the members of my Discord server, shared on his channel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straasa/MC SFW

Clear blue eyes light up joyfully the moment your gazes meet, his full lips curving in a soft, affectionate smile.

He walks up to you swiftly, his long strides propelling him forward with the eagerness of a man beyond simply in love and all the way in to besotted. Besotted and in no way trying to hide it.

The moment he's next to you, he reaches out covetously, his long arms wrapping around your shoulder as one rough palm settles at the small of your back, the other lightly cupping the back of your neck. 

"My heart, it's so good to see you. What took you so long to come to me?" The timbre of his voice travels like lightning down your spine as he freely leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Oh, how I've missed you…" he sighs soulfully as he leans forward, his handsome face eclipsing all else before he buries it into the crook of your neck, molding his body to yours.

He hums contentedly against your tingling skin, softly rubbing his stubble over it and sensitizing it even further—and if you make a soft sound of pleasure as the fullness of your heart threatens to overwhelm you…

If you shiver and relax against him like a puppet with its strings cut, if you let yourself be held, safe and wanted, if you allow yourself to believe he'll always be there for you… Well, who can blame you? Straasa is here, and you are home.


	28. Daelynn/MC SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome message from Daelynn to the members of my Discord server, shared on her channel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daelynn/MC SFW

he moment you enter, you are greeted by a blond devil sprawled out on the couch, her hair and clothes in artful disarray as she fixes you in her sights.

"My sweetness! I had no idea you'd be coming over today…" she coos at you in a low tone that makes your knees go weak, her voice full of innocent wonder.

A complete contrast to the way she's looking at you, her hungry gaze taking in your every breath as she licks her lips and beckons you closer with an outstretched hand, the air around her sizzling with barely concealed desire. 

You walk toward her feeling as if caught in a hunter's snare, your body a raw nerve, your breaths feeling heavy in your lungs, your fingers twitching at your side with the urge to touch the flawless skin presented to you.

The moment you reach her, her strong fingers wrap around your wrist like a shackle, a brand, inescapable, marking you as hers. A cage you never want to escape.

"Let me show you how much I appreciate that you did…" Her voice is dripping with lava-hot suggestion, and although her words are enticing, this is not a request—it's a demand.

And as with everything concerning Daelynn… you are powerless to resist. You will yield. You will be owned. And you will be loved.


	29. Eledwen/MC SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome message from Eledwen to the members of my Discord server, shared on her channel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eledwen/MC SFW

You enter the seemingly empty room and look around, searching, searching…

"What are you looking for, my one?" a deep voice coming right behind you startles you almost a foot into the air, and you clutch your hand to your chest as you swivel around to face Eledwen.

Her golden eyes are open comically wide, your reaction startling her almost as much as it did you. Her usually stoic voice is painted in an expression of surprise—then…

Her strong hand slowly reaches for you as her lips curve in a small, fond smile, her fingers lightly caressing your cheekbone.

"I couldn't have scared you, could I?" she asks deceptively innocently, but you can hear clearly the undertone of amusement lining her words, the softness of her golden eyes.

She slowly leans forward and touches her forehead to yours, a tiny, vulnerable smile pulling at her lips.

"You're here…" she whispers in awed disbelief—and the love in her voice chases away all shadows


	30. Morkai/Straasa/Daelynn/Eledwen/MC AU SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome message from all the boys and girls, set in a 5-way poly configuration. For the members of my Discord server, shared on the polys channel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/Straasa/Daelynn/Eledwen/MC AU SFW

Four pairs of eyes latch onto you the moment your feet carry you over the threshold—green, blue, golden, and grey zero down on you with the intensity of a thousand suns, pinning you to the spot.

Your companions are strewn around the place in various displays of non-deliberate beauty. Or at least some of them are not deliberate. You'd think about half of them know exactly what they're doing, Morkai's long, hard lines and Daelynn's luscious curves in obvious display.

They are sitting next to each other on a long couch, for once not fighting—oh no, their goal is something else this time. Something you severely doubt you'll be able to survive.

And Straasa and Eledwen are not helping in the least. The blue-eyed man is sitting on the floor right in front of Morkai, one of the redhead's legs draped over his strong shoulder. He's massaging the calf on top of him almost absent-mindedly, his gaze focused solely on you, far sharper than he usually is with his regard.

And Eledwen is... braiding Daelynn's hair, her strong fingers far more dexterous than they have any right to be, her muscular shoulders flexing with her movements—the moment her eyes lock with yours, time stands still, an expectant air falling over everyone.

You walk over to them as if in a trance, your feet propelling you forward with barely any input from your brain, the siren's call of the couch luring you towards some unfathomable end you don't dare imagine.

A spot between Morkai and Daelynn has magically appeared, and just as you get within reach, three pairs of hands reach for you, grabbing your hands, your waist, pulling you between hard muscles and soft curves.

Straasa glues his body to your right leg the moment you sit down, and Eledwen comes around to sit to your left, laying her head on your lap with a small sigh of satisfaction.

You are surrounded at all sides, their bodies, their scent, their breaths, their gorgeous faces flooding your every sense as they look at you with abject desire and affection.

Oh, dear. This will be a long night.


	31. Morkai/MC/Straasa SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC eats too much candy. And earns themselves a new pet name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/MC/Straasa, SFW, kitten

You knew that eating that much candy was a mistake—now you're running around all over the place, overturning stuff by mistake, and generally making a nuisance of yourself.

You swear you can see Morkai's eye twitch over a million times in the course of the evening, your theatrics not as entertaining to him as they seem to be for Straasa who is gazing at you with a fond smile.

And at some point, it looks like enough is enough. You are suddenly grabbed by the nape as you're about to bump against a table again, and Morkai all but lifts you by the scruff of your neck!

He glares at you straight in the eye and shakes you a bit as if to jostle some sense back into you.

"Will you stop, you infernal pest?! You're like a kitten on catnip!"

His words have the desired effect—you immediately go quiet and limp in his grasp, a furious blush painting your face as your brain functions come to an abrupt stop.

Did he just, what was he, it's not... A myriad of thoughts flitter through your mind, none of them staying for longer than a second, but all of them causing butterflies to dance around in your stomach.

For a moment, there is silence. Then a wicked chuckle rings out as his full lips stretch into a seductive grin. When he leans close to your ear, his deep voice makes you shiver as he whispers to you.

"Oh? You're my _kitten_ , are you?" 

The smugness of his tone cannot be denied—you wish you could say you respond to him in a dignified manner. But you don't. You squeak instead.

And as Straasa comes up to the two of you and boxes you in from the other side, his lips peppering kisses against your neck and making you want to coo in delight, Morkai's voice urges you once more...

" _Purr for us, kitten..._ "


	32. Morkai/M!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morkai and an M!MC having a little one-on-one session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morkai/M!MC, NSFW, thigh riding, tear tasting, dry humping, thigh fucking, biting, marking

The wall at your back is cold, the rough stone leeching away the heat from your body— but you can barely feel it. The body pressing you against said wall makes up for it and then some.

Morkai’s large bulk has you pinned, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you up as your feet dangle. And the reason why your feet are dangling? Because the impossible man has his thigh slotted between your legs, insistently pressing you down on it, rubbing it back and forth against your sensitive orbs.

You are fully naked in his arms, but he is fully clothed, the only part of him exposed his throbbing length. It twitches and drips on your stomach as the man’s hold on your hips moves you back and forth, using you like a puppet to sate his desire.

The fiery hunger in his green eyes cannot be denied— he is looking at you as if you are something to be devoured, conquered, claimed. His sharp gaze is taking in every minute change in your expression, memorizing your moans and helpless gasps. Everything belongs to him.

And he friction on your sensitive groin is driving you mad. Already your orbs are drawn tight, your member aching and drooling with the need to climax. The firm muscle of this thigh has no give— and so does the pleasure it’s providing you. It’s harsh, and unyielding, forcing the euphoria down your throat instead of slowly stoking it.

And yet at the same time, the leather skin of his breeches is so soft— silk-covered steel digging in your helpless shaft and making you babble with the illusion of relief it gives. Your mouth hangs mindlessly open, your tongue peaking out as you moan and thrash, clamping your smooth thighs around the leg tormenting you. It hurts so good, and you never want to let go.

A dark chuckle reaches your ears, the sound low, and wicked, traveling all the way down your spine to pool inside your overstimulated scrotum. A warm tongue trails up your cheek, and you realize— tears have begun to fall from your eyes against your will. The forced bliss is becoming too much to handle, your small body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Morkai swallows down the salty drops, his hot mouth closing over one eye and lightly sucking before he moves to the other one. His strong fingers are pressing bruises into the soft flesh of your hips as his pace gets even faster, harder, pressing you down on his thigh with almost crushing force.

“That’s it— cry for me, Lian. Come for me,” he orders you, his voice harsh and commanding, willing to accept nothing but absolute obedience. And he has trained your body too well— the moment the words leave his lips, you start to seize and shake and moan your way to a mind-blowing climax.

Morkai feeds you his tongue the moment the tremors start, swallowing down your moans and blocking your airway as you paint his clothed thigh in pearly white stripes. And still, he doesn’t cease with his relentless movements, making you ride him throughout the orgasm, not slowing down, draining you for all you’ve got.

Wave upon wave of lightning singes your veins, your entire groin on fire as your scrotum quivers and releases pulse after painful pulse of liquid rapture. When you think you’re about to faint from lack of oxygen and your body spasming past its limits, your redheaded master finally withdraws.

He drags his mouth away from you, and stops moving his thigh— you collapse against him like a puppet with its strings cut. You pant heavily and whimper, trying to catch your breath as he softly caresses your black hair for a moment.

The moment doesn’t last long, though. His soft lips brush against the shell of your ear seductively, and his husky voice whispers words of sin to you.

“You don’t think I’m done with you, do you, Lian? Does this feel like I’m done?” he croons to you, a threatening note lurking behind his wanton tone. He sharply presses his swollen length against you, illustrating his point, and you whine pathetically in response.

He doesn’t grant you any more time to recover— he manhandles you as if you are nothing more than a child, grabbing you by the waist and using his legs to make sure that you’re dangling the way he wants you to, your thighs pressed tightly together.

The with one lustful groan, he slides his burning shaft between the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, pushing harshly against your already suffering scrotum. You cry out desperately, the overstimulation killing you, but he doesn’t let up.

He uses one of his own thighs to pin you in place while his arms restrict the movement of your upper body, his tongue licking patterns on the thin skin of your neck. And then he begins moving, his hips pistoning brutally against you, making sure that you’ll have bruises over your pelvic bones as well.

The friction of his velvety shaft rubbing against you so harshly sensitizes your flesh and makes you feel raw and exposed. Yet you can’t get enough of it— his ragged panting and deep, quiet moans, the tight way he’s holding you, making you take it, take him, take all of him!

Your poor body is drawn taut as a bowstring, wanting but not having the strength to do anything about it, already milked dry. His large form is making you bang against the rough wall with the force of his desire, his brutal thrusts getting harsher by the second as he approaches his climax.

He suckles harshly on your bobbing Adam’s apple, marking you for all to see, rubbing his clothed body over you, the uneven fabric scraping and tenderizing your nipples, your belly, all of you. He’s almost like a cat, all undulating and rippling movement— sensuous, but with the violence of a dragon behind it.

You can feel it the moment his body tightens, and his breath hitches. He bites down on your shoulder, his teeth leaving their claim on you as he batters your orbs and inner thighs, drenching them in his seed and making the glide easier for the last few thrusts.

Time stands still as you feel your very souls merge and love each other, your minds and hearts connected, one profound, eternal moment where the is no end to where he starts, and you end. Together forever.

By the time he stops moving, you’re achy everywhere, sticky, and ready to float away on a cloud of bliss. The man you love slowly removes his mouth from your tender flesh and starts licking and soothing it with his tongue, his hips pressing against you with the small aftershocks.

“Lian… Such a good boy for me,” he praises you breathlessly, his tongue licking up your sweat and tears, as a possessive gesture as you’ve ever seen. You belong to him. Body and soul. And you would have it no other way.


	33. Manerkol/M!MC Dominance Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is too defiant for his own good. Cue Manerkol teaching him his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manerkol/M!MC SFW, except there's a orgasm-inducing bite included, fighting, mock fighting, powerplay, dominance struggle, painplay, slapping

You have sweat running down your face, and you angrily wipe it away as it drips into your eyes and makes them sting. You need to be at the top of your game, focused and alert. The vampire standing nonchalantly opposite you all but demands it.

~*~

“I don’t fear you, Manerkol. Your threats mean nothing to me.” Your tone is brash, belligerent—taunting what should not be taunted. Your mate raises a single elegant eyebrow, not at all surprised by your usual challenging behavior. 

“Is that so, Quinn? So disrespectful towards your Lord.” The smirk accompanying the smooth, low bass of his voice informs you that he doesn’t take you seriously at all. And that just gets you even more determined to prove to him the truth of your words.

“You’re the one who should respect me. Because in the end, you’re all talk, aren’t you?” Now this gets his attention more—he snaps closed the book he was holding and rises in one languid motion, his muscles rippling like pure sin under his form-fitting attire.

His red eyes pin you to the spot, and when he smiles, his fangs peek out ominously. A shiver of both delight and fear ripples through you, and when he tilts his head challengingly and reaches out with a beckoning hand, it’s all you can do to maintain your facade.

“ _Shall I prove it, then, ulaidh?"_

~*~

You watch him, his every minute shift in stance, the direction he’s looking, anything that could help you beat him—but even as you focus on him intently, he gives away nothing. You can’t be sure that he’s not faking every single thing.

He’s done it before, after all—made you think he’d advance on you from the right only to feint and get close enough to run his fingers mockingly, tantalizingly over your shoulders before moving back again.

Trying to win over a vampire in a physical fight would be folly under normal circumstances—trying to win over Manerkol is delusional. And yet you can’t help yourself. You look at his gorgeous form, the absolute confidence he has, the barely concealed danger he exudes, and all your damn brain tells you is to _fight him_.

“I wonder why that might be, Quinn. Perhaps because you want to be made to obey, battered down until you have no choice but to submit, to accept that you’re not in control here?” His dulcet tone makes your blood boil in your veins, his smug grin even more so.

“You talk too bloody much,” you growl threateningly and lunge at him on the same breath, going for surprise. He sidesteps your punch as if he’s performing a choreographed dance, no urgency in his movements, only fluid grace.

And makes sure he runs his hand sinuously over your thigh before he allows your momentum to throw you off course. You grunt in frustration, both aroused and _furious_. Every single caress he bestows upon you is like a physical blow, mocking you with its tender affection.

Red flashes before your vision, your body tense and rigid as you grit your teeth, wanting to wipe that dark smirk from his Gods-damned gorgeous face with everything you got. Heat is coursing through your veins, and you can’t tell if it’s fury or arousal making your world shrink to a single point of reference.

His pink tongue peeks out to wet his lips in what you know is a calculated gesture, his hooded red eyes, long lashes brushing over high cheekbones, his long neck beckoning to you when he tilts his head.

“ _Yield_ ,” he commands, his hand reaching out to you, images of the ecstasy that awaits you _if only you’re good_ flashing before your eyes. An inhuman howl tears itself from your throat, and you launch yourself at him without thought. The bastard is taunting you, and _it’s working._

Predictably, your attack is once more brushed aside like it’s nothing, a toddler throwing a tantrum against someone far stronger than him. Only this time, it’s not a caress that marks your umpteenth failure.

Manerkol draws his hand back—and then the back of his palm makes contact with your cheek, the backhand leaving your face tingling and sensitized. Not harming you, but reminding you _he could_. An insult if you’ve ever seen one.

“ _Yield_ ,” he repeats, and all semblance of a plan or even sanity rolls down the hill as crazed energy courses through your veins, the desire to make him heel, prove to him, mount him, _own him_ —the absolute need to dominate him makes you launch a berserk-like assault with what strength you have left.

Again and again, you strike, but your blows never connect—and gone are the caresses of before. With every punch thrown, he retaliates by slapping your heaving body, each jarring impact stronger than the one before—your thighs, your butt cheeks, long scratches against your arms, your jaw.

Until the moment comes when you become completely and utterly exhausted—just like he planned. You grit your jaw, unwilling to admit he has won even now. You lock gazes with him, still defiant, still thinking he’s the most beautiful man in Talhamsyn. And then he smirks.

You launch one last, desperate assault, your clenched fist going straight for his handsome, cocky mug—only for him to raise a single hand and stop it midair, his long fingers wrapping around your hand and halting it with no effort at all.

You growl loudly and try to pull back to no avail—and watch in horrified wonder as he tugs you closer at the same time he raises his own free fist. _This is it_ , you think. _Manerkol is going to punch me._

You’re not sure if you want to close your eyes or not, but it’s a moot point anyway since you’re frozen to the spot, every single muscle locking up in anticipation of what could be a substantial blow. The dull, bone-deep throbbing your body is experiencing from his earlier counter-attacks has proven once and for all that Manerkol will not hesitate to hurt you. Harm, never. But _hurt_ —oh, yes.

And yet, the blow you fear never comes. Instead of punching you in the face, Manerkol uses the momentum to reach behind your head, his long fingers wrapping around the strands of your hair in a steely grip that forces your head to the right—revealing you neck to him.

His body molds itself to yours right before his fangs pierce the pulsating column of your throat, and unimaginable ecstasy bursts forth, blooming from the bite and rushing in all directions. Your groin tightens up to the point of pain and then _releases_ , wave after rapturous wave soiling your underwear.

The delirious euphoria peaks as he drags pull after pull of your blood, leaving you shaking, hollowed out. And when he pulls back your orgasm crests, leaving you to drift down—both figuratively and literally.

Manerkol steps back, letting go of you, and you slump to your knees in an ungraceful heap, still panting, your pulse thundering in your ears, your body shaking with the aftershocks. A cold hand takes you by the chin, forcing you to look up at him, the man who owns you, the man who _won._

“How about now, Quinn? Are you ready to pledge your fealty to the Crown _now_?” he asks, amused, his tone both mocking and fond, knowing that no matter what you answer, the truth remains. 

And the truth is that the one blustering is _you._ The one who fights because he wants to _lose_ , even as he does his best to win. Your submission was never in question. But it’s ever so entertaining to watch you _try_ to prove otherwise. 

“ _Come on, Quinn. I dare you._ ”


	34. Morkai/M!MC NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morkai, a mirror, and creative use of ropes, blindfolds, and restraints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW, Anal, Oral, Shibari Bondage, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Control, cock rings, sex in front of a mirror, Morkai is bottoming while doming in this one

You enter the room with Morkai hot at your heels—he’s so close you could swear you feel his hot breath at the nape of your neck, even though you know it’s impossible. His big body towers over you, and you _long_ to feel his hands on you.

He told you that he has special plans for you tonight, and you shiver as you remember the heat in his voice when he said it. As soon as the door closes behind you, you realize for yourself that this night is going to be _unique_.

You don’t get the chance to turn around and look at him because his strong arms have seized you by the waist and under the knees—he then all but launches you toward the bed, your slim body slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. You bounce off of the soft mattress, stunned. And then he is upon you.

He uses one large palm to grip both of your wrists, his weight pinning you against the bead, pushing you down. The black of his pupils all but eclipses the green of his eyes as he drinks in the sight of you, compliant beneath him. In love, obedient, _his_.

“Do you trust me?” he asks sultrily, his tone low and dangerous as he chastely brushes his lips over your panting mouth. You nod shakily; words are impossible for you right now. You have barely begun, and yet you’re already stricken mute with desire—you can feel his rock hard erection grinding against your thigh.

He smiles predatorily at your acceptance, and leans up and away from you, releasing your hands. “Stay,” he orders, and you obey without question, your body shaking but immobile as you struggle to give him anything he wants. Your body, your heart, your very _soul_. All his.

He is out of sight for a few seconds, and you can hear him rummaging through the chest where he keeps all his toys. All just for you. His strong thigh is still pressed against you, grounding you, giving you the strength to stay still for him, to _wait_.

His handsome face renters your line-of-sight, and his gorgeous, soft hair brushes against your cheek like the gentlest of caresses. He licks his lips hungrily as he simply stares into your black eyes for a moment—then his expression turns into one of unyielding determination.

“Close your eyes. And no talking,” he demands, and you do as he says. Soon after, a soft piece of cloth makes sure that your eyes will _stay_ closed—a blindfold. He slowly and sensually starts removing your clothes, his hands stroking the pale expanse of your skin as he goes. You are now fully naked beneath him.

So he begins to dress you in another way. First, he props you up against the headboard—then his hands start caressing your shivering torso, smoothing down the quivering muscles. And then you feel it. The sweet, familiar bite of ropes against your flesh. You’ve played with them before, but not like this.

No, _this_ is different. He starts by tying your wrists together and behind your back. He then proceeds to wrap the ropes around your torso and over your shoulders, the knots biting into you, raising your skin, making your nipples pebble.

You feel your blood surge to the surface, sensitizing your flesh as the patterns of the bindings turn intricate, and you can imagine in your mind’s eye how _beautiful_ his work must look. He is silent as his ropes are tied around your body, your heart, your mind—but his breathing is fast, erratic. He is not unaffected.

After some time that feels as long as eternity and as short as a single second, his beloved hands withdraw from your now completely bound torso, and without a word, he takes you in his arms and _lifts_ , carrying you up and off the bed.

You are then gently deposited on a comfortable chair. He starts working on your thighs, opening them wide, crisscrossing the ropes over them, and then tying the ankles to the chair’s legs. He is finally done. You can see nothing, but _feel_ everything, every single part of you on display—restrained, unable to move, achy and wanting, every single nerve on fire as your member twitches and leaks against your stomach.

He takes the blindfold off, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away. He has placed the chair in front of a large mirror. You can see everything—the beautiful artwork of his technique, your chest moving up and down with every quivering breath, your engorged shaft, your unfocused eyes.

Your black hair is mused and in disarray, and you’re quaking like a leaf in the wind. You want him, you want him, _you want him_. And… You’re beautiful. He has _made_ you beautiful. Only at his hand, by his will, can you ever see the truth behind the words he whispers every day to you.

“ _You’re so beautiful, Lian…_ ”

And right now, bound and helpless at his mercy, you believe him. You desperately turn your gaze to him and see that he is undressing— quickly, efficiently, his blazing eyes fixed on nothing but you, your reflection on the mirror.

His glorious body is revealed to your hungry gaze, and your length starts drooling on your stomach in a positively obscene way—but you can’t help it. You’re already _so close_. But lost in his breath-taking beauty, you forget his wicked cruelty, how he likes to torment you. 

When he kneels between your legs, you think he intends to take you into his mouth. Instead, he grips your scrotum firmly, pulling it away from your body as he wraps a small piece of cloth tightly around the base of your shaft, cutting off any hope of climaxing before he allows it.

You keen desperately, fighting to stay quiet as he ordered you, and you see him smirk up at you smugly. He stands up fluidly, and you wonder what else he has in store for you, what he could possibly do to torture you further…

“Already so wet for me, Lian,” he chuckles darkly as he takes you in his palm, his large fingers barely applying any pressure—instead, he makes sure to spread around the fluid leaking from your tip all over your member, getting it so _very_ slick. The liquid is flowing so copiously that his stroking hand makes lewd, squelching sounds as it jerks up and down.

Then the maddening touch is withdrawn, but before you have the chance to moan in complain, he is climbing on top of you, his hand steadying your erection as he brings it to his warm entrance, rubbing it over the quivering muscle.

Your eyes open wide in surprise, and you stare at him, shocked, your jaw lax. He rarely ever allows you this—to be buried inside him, the heat of his body engulfing you. You can count the times he’s done this on the fingers of one hand. Then you all your thoughts fly away from you, as he slowly, purposefully starts pushing down, taking you inside in one long, dragging descend.

It’s tight, _too tight_ —his body is not prepared for penetration, and the lubrication is not enough. But this is how he likes it. He _wants_ the achy stretch, the burning feeling of being too full. He throws his head back and moans wantonly when he’s fully seated, his cheeks resting on your thighs, his opening squeezing you to the point of numbness.

You cry out with him, wanting to _thrust_ , spend yourself inside him, but you can’t, _you can’t_ —just like he wills it. He doesn’t waste any more time with teasing. He wants you deep and hard, his hands wrapping around your shoulders as his hips set up a brutal rhythm that barely has him lifting up from your lap. Instead, he grinds and pushes, his walls clinging to your length, squeezing the ecstasy out of you, yet tormenting you at the same time.

You ache with the need to climax, but his all-consuming riding is not for you. He is using you for his satisfaction alone, his sharp, deep motions meant to maximize his own pleasure with little care for anything else.

You’re nothing but a pretty toy for him to sate his sexual hunger—the mere thought of it makes your eyes cross, and your tongue sticks out from your mouth reflexively. You can’t keep silent anymore. A steady stream of almost pained moans leaves your mouth, intertwining with his own lustful grunts as his pace gets _faster and faster_ , his walls twitching and tightening. His opening clamps over you as his orgasm rushes through him, painting your stomach, his untouched shaft exploding all over you.

His shudders and groans low in satisfaction, his face a mask of rapture as he slumps against you, his body still milking you sluggishly with the aftershocks of his orgasm. You strain and strain against the ropes, trying to push yourself _in, deeper,_ get some more friction, more bliss, as if that alone will be enough to break the hold he has placed on you.

He allows to rut against his relaxing form for a moment, but then mercilessly gets up, the glove of heat leaving you and exposing you to the bitter cold, your length turning purple in your desperation. You open your mouth to protest, to beg, _anything_ —but he’s not paying attention.

His eyes lock on the member that brought him such pleasure, and he promptly kneels in front of you, his head moving forward and taking the shaft between his lips without hesitation. The sear lewdness of the act—knowing where your length has just been—coupled with his immediate, voracious sucking is enough to make you cry out. His hand grabs onto your orbs and _tugs_.

Non-sensical words leave your mouth as you wail and shake and fall apart under his skilled tongue, his cheeks hollowing with the force of his suckling. The slick muscle digs into your slit as he pulls back, sucking the head raw before he bobs down again, all the way to the root, his lips touching the cloth restraining you.

Your body is like an open nerve—the pain of denial and the pleasure of his touch are so intertwined that you can’t make out what you’re feeling anymore. Do you love it, do you hate it, you don’t know. It feels like the scorching heat of his mouth is burning off your very skin, like your very soul is sucked out of you.

Your body arches like a bow as fas as your bonds allow, the muscles clenching, locking, straining—you push out with your pelvis, trying to make yourself come inside his ravenous mouth, but you just _can’t_. The blinding bliss is held _right there_ , at the tipping point, boiling up, burning through your veins—you want to _feed_ it to him, you want him to _taste it, taste you,_ make you a part of him.

_You need…!_

The hand that was up till now ruthlessly massaging and rubbing your scrotum becomes your liberation. The long fingers take hold of the cloth, denying you what you most desperately want, and pull it off.

Your agonized member is finally _free,_ embedded fully inside his willing mouth, suckled raw, the tip of it touching the back of his throat. You let go. The torrent that has been building and building inside is, at last, released, a flood of euphoria that spreads through every single inch of you. Your skin breaks into goosebumps as you convulse and heave, your eyes rolling back into your head as you spill between his lips—proof of your love and desire. An offering. A gift that he cherishes, if the wanton moaning vibrating all around your length is anything to go by.

The stream of ecstasy goes on and on, robbing you of breath, thought, and sanity until nothing but the pull of his mouth exists, the throbbing of your shaft and orbs, the softness of his hair on your thighs.

Once it cedes, you are left dry, hollowed out, exhausted. You slump against the chair, vaguely noting that the ropes have cruelly dug into your skin and are likely to leave welts. It’s perfect. _He’s_ perfect.

He gets up slowly, and brings his mouth to you, pressing his lips demandingly against yours. You open up without hesitation—and are promptly fed your own seed, his tongue licking inside your mouth demandingly and spreading it around, making you swallow it.

The sudden rush of intoxication the taste brings you is almost like a blow, and your senses start to leave you altogether, your body overwrought and shutting down. And then you realize…  
You may just not survive this man. Or survive without him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.


	35. Morkai/Straasa Fluff from their teenage years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Morkai and Straasa's shenanigans beck from when they were teenagers! This scene is references in-game if you pick drawing as a hobby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff.

The paints are arranged beautifully in front of him, waiting to be combined in a pandemonium of colors and vibrancy. New worlds are waiting to be birthed on his command, starry skies and green fields waiting to be unleashed.  
Straasa stares at the blank canvas, and the vast emptiness stares back. Not even a single line of color mars its snowy surface, and while he could probably spin some wild tale about life and its meaninglessness being depicted on this very piece of paper, he doubts his father would appreciate the philosophical musings.

Or even if he did, then Miriel certainly wouldn’t. She spent a fortune to get all these wildly expensive paints for him. He had mentioned once that he would like to try it out, and now he was suddenly expected to create a masterpiece breath-taking enough to compete with the masters.

And that masterpiece will, of course, be an utterly life-like portrait of Miriel’s likeness, every single nuance captured to depict her profound and inimitable beauty. He’d be lucky if he could paint a realistic stick figure at this point.  
He slowly puts down the palette, all 16 of the years of his life weighing down on him. She’s going to be so disappointed. He hates it when she looks at him with that look—the look that says that he didn’t try enough, didn’t love her enough, wasn’t good enough. In anything at all. 

“I have to say, what you’ve created portrays Miriel’s vapidness quite well, I’m proud of you, man.”

Straasa springs up from his stool as swiftly as a snake springs from the sand, his heart beating like mad in his chest. His stares at Morkai with eyes wide open, a hand clutched over his chest. What is he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to come in today! Miriel would have a fit!

“Morkai,” he hisses, trying to keep his voice down in case someone is passing by outside his room. “What are you doing here? Miriel said that you can’t come by until I’m done with her portrait! She’ll skin us both if she finds you here! And how did you get in without me hearing you?!” the blue-eyed teen whispers furiously, grabbing his friend’s arm and trying to lead him out.

Morkai, of course, doesn’t budge, looking at the blank canvas with an air of snobbish evaluation. He nods his head sagely, pointing to an indeterminate point.

“This part particularly, where her heart should be, I think you’ve captured that part to perfection. Yes, I’m quite pleased. I will hang this above your bedroom door,” the redhead keeps on going, acting for all intents and purposes like this is a fabulous piece of art that he is critiquing with his sharp eye.

Straasa exhales loudly in frustration and stops trying to move his stubborn friend. No one can make Morkai budge if he doesn’t want to be moved. He is already almost as tall as his father and Rhaygan is nothing to scoff at, towering over everyone at 6’2”.  
But then Straasa notices a sweet smell coming off of Morkai, something that reminds him suspiciously of… His eyes zoom in on the satchel hanging from his friend’s waist, and his hands swoop in to open it greedily.

The redhead grins at him roguishly as Straasa finds what he was looking for— a small, cloth-wrapped bundle containing nothing but… lemon cakes! His favorite! He didn’t think the kitchens would make that today!

“How did you get these?!” he exclaims in glee, immediately snatching one of the pastries up and bringing it to his mouth. Morkai’s grin gets even wider, like a cat that has just gotten the cream.

“You know Ilya likes me. I promised her a moonlit walk in the gardens tomorrow night if she would make these for me,” Morkai informs him smugly. Ilya, the cook in training in their mansion. She thinks Morkai has hung the sun and stars, the poor girl.

“You’ll keep your word to her, right?” the blue-eyed teen asks a bit uneasily. He knows that Morkai doesn’t particularly care for the girl. His friend has at least the grace to look completely affronted.

“Of course I will! Who do you take me for, man?! That’s insulting! I’m a man of my word! Trust me, I’ll give her a night she’ll never forget,” the redhead reassures him, his smirk turning lecherous, and Straasa rolls his eyes in response.  
He instead turns his attention to the delicious cakes, leaving Morkai to his thorough examination of the snow-white canvas. The red-haired boy makes a small “Ah,” sound like he has just figured something out, but Straasa doesn’t turn to look at what his friend is doing.

A mistake in hindsight. A huge one at that, too. Once he’s done demolishing the sugary treats, Straasa finally raises his eyes and immediately freezes, his mind refusing to take in the devastation right in front of him.  
He can feel the cakes coming up as he stares horrified at the huge boobs Morkai has drawn on the canvas, complete with a donkey’s head attached to them. Because it’s certainly the breasts that take the place of honor in this ‘painting,’ they’re twice the size of the equine head.

“Shit, no!” Straasa shrieks in desperation, covering his eyes with sticky fingers. He lifts his hand after a moment as if time might have erased the abomination from existence, but no, it’s still there, still glaring at him accusingly. Morkai, for his part, looks exceedingly satisfied with himself, not realizing that Straasa was given no spare canvases in case he messed up. He was supposed to get it at first try. There is no way to hide this from his step-mother.

He is doomed. Absolutely freaking doomed. Morkai seems to register that his friend has gone pale as a sheet, almost shaking in front of him. He quickly sets the palette down and grabs Straasa by the shoulders, making him look at him.

“Hey, man, it was just a joke. We’ll tell her I did it, since it’s the truth and also because she can do absolutely nothing to me,” the green-eyed teen tries to comfort his distraught friend, having no idea what exactly Miriel could do to punish them both. She could deny Morkai visits and the other way around. She could keep them apart and had already threatened to do so many times. This would surely be the last straw, causing the threat to become a reality.

“And if she tries to separate us, I have Ilya to sneak me in whenever I want.”

Straasa’s eyes snap to Morkai’s, surprised, hopeful. How had Morkai figured this out? Straasa had never told him of Miriel’s threats. And was this the reason his friend kept on indulging Ilya when he wasn’t all that interested in her? The redhead was a lot more devious than Straasa originally thought. Also, kind of ruthless, using people to get what he wants. But Straasa can’t help but feel grateful to him. For making the situation at least sort of bearable. Even if it was him that created the problem in the first place.

The hands on his shoulders suddenly grip him tightly, and Morkai’s gaze turns far-away and distant, then an unholy light enters his eyes. It’s like a candle has been lit behind them, and Straasa knows that he is in serious trouble. When the redhead gets this excited, it means disaster is at hand.

“Morkai, no! Whatever you’re thinking…!” Straasa tries to caution, but his warning is cut short by a colorful missile hitting him straight on the mouth. Paint. It’s a glob of red, incredibly expensive paint that Morkai has scooped up from the palette and launched right at his face.

It dribbles down the blue-eyed teen's chin, and Straasa can taste it in his mouth. He wonders in a panicky sort of way if he can get poisoned from this. Morkai, having efficiently shut his friend up, turns his attention to his short-lived masterpiece. His large hand scoops up more of the paint, and he slathers it over the breasted donkey in wide strokes, erasing all evidence of Miriel’s supposed likeness under a mountain of mismatched colors.

Once he’s done, he looks at the canvas with a forlorn look, like he regrets erasing the monstrosity from existence. 

“It’s a pity, really. I believe I captured her essence perfectly,” he mourns, the palette still held in his hand. Straasa wipes his mouth and takes the weapon of destruction away from his friend. 

“She doesn’t look like a donkey, Morkai, she’s beautiful,” he chastises the redhead, taking one of the brushes in his hand and swirling it through the remaining paint. Morkai shrugs his shoulders in response, not interested in debating Miriel’s beauty.

“Who cares? She behaves like an arse, that’s all that matters. An arse with boobs,” he snickers gleefully, and Straasa seizes the perfect chance as Morkai’s eyes briefly close.

He lunges forward, the brush held like a sword heading straight at his impossible friend’s face. His aim proves true, getting his friend’s nose and part of his cheek. Morkai squawks in outrage and ducks, trying to get the palette away from Straasa. The two grapple for a few minutes, loud laughter and curses echoing in the air around them.

By the time an infuriated “Boys!” slices through the moment, the teens have managed to get their clothes and faces, even their hair covered in remnants of paint. Straasa is laying down on the ground, wheezing, and Morkai is sitting down next to him, still chortling, his leg over Straasa’s calf.

Furious footsteps head straight for them, and Straasa doesn’t sit up to look who it is. He’d recognize Miriel’s gait anywhere. He instead turns his gaze to look at his friend instead. Morkai’s eyes are glimmering as he flicks his attention at his friend, shooting him a mischievous grin before he gets up, holding his hands out in surrender in front of him, trying to calm down Miriel’s explosive fury.

Straasa takes a deep breath and gets up to join him. Yet as he looks at his clothes, at Morkai’s, at the mess their grappling has made, at the ruined canvas that held his step-mother’s likeness done Morkai-style…

He chuckles despite knowing it will piss off Miriel even more. He regrets nothing.


End file.
